


Attitude Adjustment

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blood, Drugs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Guns, M/M, Police Pursuits, Violence, police!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Semi was perfectly happy with Tendou Satori as his on-duty partner. When Tendou makes one mistake too many and gets reassigned, Semi is stuck with a new transfer, Shirabu Kenjirou.Unfortunately for Semi, Shirabu has a bad attitude and a tendency to question his judgement. It isn't an easy partnership, but eventually the two of them learn to get along - in more ways than one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Has anyone ever heard me say "I'm not writing another Police AU"? Because I mean it this time. Really. After this one I'm done.  
>    
>  ~~I'm looking at you, Ayumi_chan.~~
> 
> I'll update this again near the end of the month probably? I'll likely finish it up in January.

Tires screamed almost as loudly as the wailing sirens as the police cruiser skidded around a corner, the back end sliding in a quick, gut-wrenching fishtail.

Semi braced one hand against the dash. The other was balled in the sleeve of Tendou’s uniform. 

“Stop the fucking car!” Semi shouted, flinching as they lurched forward and barely missed an oncoming bus.

“They’ll get away!” Tendou yelled back, snapping the steering wheel to the side to dodge a cluster of stationary vehicles. The windshield wipers were a constant echo, sluicing away at the heavy rain. “We’re gonna catch them this time, Semi-Semi!”

“We won’t catch shit if we’re dead!”

The radio crackled, and the smooth voice of the dispatcher said, “503, check-in.”

Tendou scrabbled at the speaker hanging from the rearview. “503, ten-four.”

“Ten-four?” said Semi. “What the fuck do you mean, ten-four? We are the complete fucking opposite of ten-four!”

“We’re fine, take a breath,” said Tendou. He slipped around another truck and their target came into view, half a block ahead. It was a small red car, weaving in and out of traffic with reckless abandon.

The same sort of reckless abandon that Tendou was using to try and catch them.

“We are not fine! We should have abandoned the pursuit back on Block 220. This is against protocol, Tendou. You need to fucking stop!”

“They’re not getting away again,” said Tendou. There was a gleam in his eyes that may have been steely determination. Semi only saw flickering insanity.

Ahead, the red car sped through a stoplight, barely avoided oncoming traffic, and took such a sharp turn that they nearly careened off of the road.

Semi looked to Tendou, whose stare had gone narrow with intent.

“No,” said Semi. He gripped Tendou’s sleeve more tightly. “Don’t even think about it. You know protocol. If you break it-”

“Calm down, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou. Instead of stopping, he accelerated. 

“Tendou!”

“Trust me,” said Tendou, tossing him a quick grin before barreling into the intersection.

He dodged all of the oncoming cars with surprising finesse.

He may have even made the turn if the road hadn’t been sopping wet from the rain.

The tires spun out, the cruiser slid sideways, and Semi didn’t even have time to scream before they slammed into a parked car. The impact jolted him forward, and his seatbelt caught against his chest with bruising force. He flopped back against his seat and took a few deep breaths, struggling to reorient himself. 

When the nauseous spinning sensation passed, he looked sideways at Tendou, who stared blankly through the cracked windshield.

Tendou licked his lips and said, “Ushijima is gonna be mad.”

If spectators weren’t already flocking around the cruiser, Semi would have punched him.

  
  
  
  
  
The following morning found them in Ushijima’s office at seven a.m. They’d arrived within seconds of one another, and Tendou had offered his usual bright greeting.

Semi had pretended he didn’t exist.

The two of them sat in front of Ushijima’s desk, the deathly silence of the room suggesting the atmosphere of a morgue.

Ushijima studied them, and though his face didn’t reflect anger, Semi knew it was there. It must have been. There was no possible way that he wouldn’t be angry, considering what had happened.

It had taken three hours to clear up the incident. Half of that time was spent tidying up the actual scene of the accident and getting cleared by paramedics. The rest of it was spent at the station, typing up painfully thorough reports detailing the debacle. 

Semi had gotten a total two hours of sleep before having to get up and come back to the station for this meeting.

It was made even more miserable by the presence of his roommate, who was also his partner, who was also the idiot sitting beside him with a tentative grin.

“If a pursuit becomes dangerous,” said Ushijima without preamble, “for either yourselves or those being pursued, it is protocol to end the chase.”

It was a simple statement, one that Semi already knew. One that he’d screamed at Tendou the night before when they’d been flying down the street.

“They were the guys from the robberies,” said Tendou. He shrugged, as if he wasn’t bothered by this meeting, but the strain in his voice and the tightness of his smile gave him away. “They’ve been terrorizing people for weeks, and you know they’re not going to stop. If we’d caught them we could’ve prevented a lot of crime.”

Ushijima studied him, unwavering. “If they’d died while you were pursuing them,” he said, “you would have been responsible for their lives.”

Tendou seemed to shrink a little. He glanced at Semi, as if looking for backup.

Semi said nothing.

“You know protocol,” said Ushijima. “You should have stopped. Why didn’t you?”

Tendou fidgeted beneath the intensity of his stare. “I just really wanted to catch them. I’m sorry, captain.”

Ushijima considered him, then turned his attention to Semi. “Why didn’t you tell him to stop?”

Semi opened his mouth to answer, realized that anything he said would only make Tendou look more irresponsible, and simply said, “I’m sorry, captain.”

There were a few passing seconds that felt impossibly long and heavy.

Tendou said, “He tried.”

Both of them looked at him.

Tendou cleared his throat. “Semi tried to stop me,” he said, staring down at his hands. “He kept telling me to pull over and end the chase but I wouldn’t listen. He shouldn’t get in trouble for this one. It was all me.”

“Is this true?” asked Ushijima.

Semi hesitated, then slowly nodded.

Ushijima sat back in his chair, studying them with sharp scrutiny. Tendou shifted, uncomfortable, but Semi didn’t even twitch.

“Very well,” Ushijima finally said. “Semi, you are excused. You will resume your shift tomorrow as scheduled.”

He glanced at Tendou, who gave him a weak smile. 

Semi wanted to ask about him, about what was going to happen, but it wasn’t his place. He was fortunate to walk away from this disaster with his career intact. Questioning that fortune would be unwise.

He stood and paced to the door, waiting for Ushijima to change his mind, but he said nothing as Semi stepped into the hallway and eased the door shut behind him.

He was still furious at Tendou, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t concerned for him, too. He would have considered attempting to listen through the door if every hallway hadn’t been wired up with high-quality cameras. 

He took a breath, tried to quell the nervous shake in his fingers, and left the station.

  
  
  
  
  
Two hours passed in sluggish silence. Semi sat on the couch and stared at the blank television screen.

He hadn’t heard from Tendou. That wasn’t a good sign, because he _always_ heard from Tendou, even when he didn’t necessarily want to. 

He was just considering putting in a call to the station to see if Ushijima was still in a meeting when the muted sound of footsteps came from beyond the door. 

Semi held his breath as a key turned in the lock and Tendou appeared, raising a brow at him before kicking off his shoes. 

“What’s wrong, Semi-Semi?” said Tendou. “You look like a housewife waiting for her husband to return from the war.”

The teasing was the same as usual, but his inflection was a little flat. 

“What happened?” asked Semi, ignoring the quip. 

Tendou shuffled over and plopped down on the opposite end of the couch with a sigh. “I almost got fired.”

Semi exhaled, surprised by the weight of his own relief. “But you didn’t.”

“Nah, I didn’t.” Tendou grinned, and it was almost believable. “Next time I fuck up I’m gone, though. The chief made that quite clear.”

“You had to talk to the chief?” said Semi. He imagined having to sit in Chief Washijou’s office to answer for a mistake. The vicarious dread made him shiver. 

“Yeah. He wanted me out, but Ushijima talked him down. If it wasn’t for him I’d be out of a job.” He pulled his long legs up on the couch and looked at his toes rather than Semi. “We’re not gonna be partners anymore, though. I’m getting paired up with Ushijima for remedial training.”

“It could be worse,” said Semi. “Ushijima’s a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Tendou, “but he’s always so serious. I won’t have fun with him like I have with you.”

“Maybe that’s for the best, idiot,” said Semi. “You need to learn to be more serious so you don’t get your ass fired.”

“Worst of all,” said Tendou, “I don’t know how you’re going to go on without me.”

“Whatever.”

“It will be miserable for you,” said Tendou, his grin returning to normal, “when I’m not around. I’m afraid you’ll spiral into serious depression. We should check into some therapists now, to help you cope.”

Semi flung a pillow at him.

  
  
  
  
  
The next day, when Semi arrived at the station for his shift, Ushijima pulled him aside before he even stepped into the patrol room.

“I assume Tendou informed you that he has been reassigned,” said Ushijima.

“Yeah, he did.”

“Another officer has transferred from shift three,” said Ushijima. “He will be your new partner. From what I have heard, he is quite competent. Let me know if there are any issues.”

“Sure,” said Semi. “Thanks, captain.”

Ushijima nodded and stepped into the buzz of conversation that bled from the patrol room. Tendou was already present, his obnoxious laughter drowning out the other voices. 

Clearly he wasn’t too concerned about his new partnership with Ushijima.

Semi shook his head and entered the room. He took his usual seat near the back, beside Sergeant Oohira. 

“Good morning, Eita.”

Semi didn’t mention that it was five o’clock in the evening.

“’Morning, Reon,” he said. He shifted in his seat and the handcuffs clipped at the back of his belt rattled against the chair. 

“You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just checking,” said Reon. “You seemed fine after the accident but sometimes it takes a day or two for whiplash to settle in.”

Semi felt a surge of guilt at the mention of the incident, but tried to shake it off. It wasn’t his fault. “No, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

Reon gave his signature comforting smile before looking toward the front of the room at Ushijima, who eyed each of them in turn and ticked off items on a clipboard. It was his version of roll call, quiet and effective. Typically he dismissed them without a word, but today he lowered the clipboard and cleared his throat.

The room went silent immediately.

“We have a new officer on our shift,” he said, gesturing toward someone in the front. “Shirabu Kenjirou. Treat him well.”

He nodded once, and that was their cue to go. The officers scattered toward the back door, beyond which their cruisers waited. Reon patted Semi’s shoulder as he stepped by but Semi didn’t move, his eyes on the back of the new guy’s head, waiting.

When the room had mostly cleared out, Shirabu stood and looked back, sweeping the empty room until he settled on Semi.

“I suppose you’re my new partner?” he said, inflectionless.

“Yeah, I guess so. I’m Semi Eita.”

“Let’s go then, Semi-san,” he said, starting toward the door. “We’re wasting time.”

Semi stared after him, stunned. Across the room, Yamagata, who’d paused to finish his coffee before leaving, smirked at him. 

“Shut up, Hayato,” mumbled Semi as he stood and followed his new partner.

He had a strong feeling he was going to spend the night missing Tendou.

  
  
  
  
  
Shirabu didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was almost as if he was choosing his words specifically to piss Semi off.

After responding to their first call of the night, Shirabu said, “I’ll take the lead in the next one if you don’t mind, Semi-san.”

When Semi swung through a drive-thru to grab dinner, he’d said, “Isn’t it a little early to eat right now, Semi-san?”

When Semi told him how long he’d been an officer, Shirabu had said, “That’s surprising. I thought you were new, Semi-san.”

They were mild comments, voiced without heat or malice. If Tendou had said any of them, Semi would have brushed them off without a second thought.

But this wasn’t Tendou, and Shirabu wasn’t joking.

Semi bit his tongue during the entire shift. He held back his snappy replies and quelled his irritation and tried not to envision yanking the baton out of Shirabu’s duty belt and smacking him with it.

Finally the night ended, Shirabu gave him a bland goodbye, and Semi scowled all the way home. Tendou had arrived already and was sprawled on the couch, still in full uniform. He didn’t move when Semi stepped inside.

Semi unlaced his boots and placed them beside Tendou’s, which were caked with mud. Semi raised a brow at them and said, “Your boots are disgusting.”

“Did you know,” said Tendou, still unmoving, “that the farm on the edge of town has forty-seven cows?”

“What?”

Tendou’s head rolled to the side. He gave Semi the dead stare of a zombie. “Forty-seven cows,” he repeated. “Six of them escaped at two a.m. Ushijima wanted to help, so we spent an hour and a half chasing cows. An hour and a half, Semi-Semi.” He sighed and seemed to wilt. “I thought he was doing it just to spite me, but he was actually concerned. He was worried the cows would get hurt. I’m not kidding.”

Semi unhooked his duty belt and let it slide away from his hips. It was heavy in his hand as he draped it across the back of a chair. He shoved Tendou’s legs out of the way and sat on the end of the couch, not protesting when Tendou’s feet settled back in his lap. “I think I’m going to kill Shirabu.”

Tendou grunted. “Let’s trade. You can chase cows with the captain and I’ll work with Shirabu.”

“Deal,” said Semi. He leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes against the overhead light. It was five-thirty a.m. and he was exhausted, but his mind was still spinning and he doubted he would fall asleep any time soon.

A few minutes of silence trickled by before Semi said, “You smell like cow shit.”

  
  
  
  
  
Before he returned to work the following night, Semi had almost convinced himself that Shirabu wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. It had been his first night with a new shift. He’d probably been nervous and uncomfortable, and maybe he could only deal with those emotions by being passively rude.

Now that they’d gotten through their first night together, things would get better. Maybe they would even be friends.

Or maybe Semi really would end up killing him.

Semi shook the plastic baggie and watched the contents shift inside. Shirabu had the suspect pinned against the side of the cruiser, checking him for more paraphernalia.

“Does he have anything else?” asked Semi, as Shirabu knelt to pat down the man’s legs.

“If he did I would tell you,” said Shirabu. He gripped the man’s arm and yanked him a step back, turning him to face Semi.

“Where’d you get the cocaine?” said Semi, dangling the baggie between them. “I’m guessing somewhere close, since you haven’t used any of it yet.”

The man stared at the sidewalk, silent.

Shirabu took a step closer, tilting his head at the drug. “That isn’t cocaine.”

“What?”

“It’s not cocaine.” Shirabu plucked the bag away and studied it. “It’s heroin.”

Semi snatched it back, squinting. “What the hell are you talking about?” he said, his polite façade slipping. “Look at it.”

“I am looking,” said Shirabu, “and I see heroin.”

“It’s white.”

“Some strains of heroin are white.”

“People around here are too poor to buy that kind of high-quality shit.”

Shirabu raised a brow at him, then turned back to the suspect, who hadn’t moved. “What’s in the bag?”

The man didn’t respond.

“We’ll be sending it to our lab,” said Shirabu, “so we’ll find out anyway. In the meantime, you’ll be sitting in jail waiting for those results to come back. Sometimes it takes weeks. If you tell us now then we can charge you properly and you can deal with all of this much sooner. Your choice.”

The man mulled that over, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. Then he mumbled, “It’s heroin.”

Shirabu glanced at Semi, and though his expression didn’t change, he still somehow seemed to be gloating.

“We can’t take his word for it,” snapped Semi. “He’s a criminal. They lie.”

“They lie when it’s in their best interest,” said Shirabu. “Heroin carries a heavier penalty than cocaine. Why would he lie about that?”

Semi didn’t have an answer for that. He tucked away the bag, seized the suspect, and shoved him toward the cruiser.

  
  
  
  
  
“My last partner would have known the difference,” said Shirabu a while later, when they were sitting in a nearly vacant diner at two a.m. 

Semi’s grip tightened around his coffee. “Fuck off.”

It was the rudest thing he’d allowed himself to say, and Shirabu didn’t even flinch.

Shirabu stared idly out of the dirty window. “We went through a lot of drug training together. Next time I identify a drug, you should just believe me.”

“If your last partner was so great,” said Semi through his teeth, “why did you transfer shifts?”

Shirabu glanced down at his barely-touched food. He looked almost regretful. It was the first emotion Semi had seen from him. “He retired.”

Semi’s anger fizzled out. If Shirabu was used to working with a veteran officer, then working with Semi would have been a big change for him. Semi had worked with the police for four years, and most of the time he knew what he was doing. There were occasions, though, that he would second-guess himself in situations that he’d never encountered. That could only be combated by experience, the sort of experience that Shirabu’s ex-partner had boasted.

Maybe Shirabu was just worried because he didn’t have that solid presence beside him anymore. Maybe he was afraid not only that Semi would mess up, but that he might as well, and he wouldn’t have someone there to correct him.

When Semi spoke, his voice was less harsh. “How long did the two of you work together?”

Shirabu picked at his food. “Five years.”

Semi almost choked. “ _What?_ ”

Shirabu raised a brow at him. “What?”

“How long have you been an officer?”

“Six years.”

“How _old_ are you?”

Shirabu’s eyes narrowed. “Twenty-seven. I got hired on straight out of college.”

Semi stared at him. He’d been convinced that Shirabu was in his early twenties. He couldn’t believe they were almost the same age, and he certainly couldn't believe Shirabu had been an officer for a longer stretch of time. “You look younger.”

“And you look like you should be working at the shopping mall instead of the police department with that hairstyle,” said Shirabu. “You don’t hear me judging you about it.”

Semi’s cooled anger flared back to life. “What the fuck? That sounded like judgment to me.”

“Did it?” said Shirabu mildly. “I apologize, Semi-san. That was not my intention.”

It was the most insincere apology Semi had ever heard. He drank his coffee and pretended Shirabu didn’t exist.

  
  
  
  
  
A couple of weeks passed, and the tension between them remained. Semi didn’t know how much longer he could last before he caved in and asked Ushijima for a new partner. He would take anyone else at this point, even Goshiki, who was so overly eager that only Reon could successfully rein him in.

He’d thought that at least he and Tendou could bond over their shared misfortunes, but after Tendou’s first week with Ushijima, he no longer had anything to complain about. 

“And I swear Wakatoshi just picked the guy up and _threw_ him into the back of the cruiser!” Tendou had said after one of their shifts, brimming with excitement. “It was amazing, Semi-Semi! And then he shrugged it off like he hadn’t just bodily lifted a 200-kilo man with zero effort. I wonder how much he can benchpress? He’s so strong it’s almost inhuman.”

Semi was glad that Tendou was getting along with Ushijima – although he wasn’t exactly sure when they’d graduated to referring to one another on a first-name basis – but he was also sort of bitter that he seemed to be the only one suffering.

The following night, Semi and Shirabu slinked around the outside of a run-down warehouse, masked by shadows, forgoing the use of flashlights for fear of revealing their presence. Semi had one hand pressed against the back of his belt to keep his spare cuffs from clanging. The other rested lightly on the grip of his gun.

They’d done a complete circuit of the exterior, and there appeared to be only two entrances. They paused near the back, and Semi was just about to speak when Shirabu said, “It would cover more ground if we went in separately, but that’s more dangerous. Let’s start from the back and clear the place together. I’ll go in first. Cover me.”

Before Semi could argue, Shirabu nudged open the rusty door and slipped through, gun-first.

Semi cursed under his breath and pulled his own gun, extending it in front of him as he followed.

He stayed a step behind Shirabu as they flowed through the abandoned building, checking every room. Huge windows were set into every wall, letting in the shine of streetlights and the glow of the full moon. 

It was only when they located the stairs to the basement that visibility became a problem. 

They stared into the dark doorway, and it was like looking into the abyss. They shared a glance, and Shirabu said, “Maybe the electricity is still on.”

“Of course it’s not,” scoffed Semi. “Have you seen this place? It’s been deserted for months. The owner doesn’t want anyone messing around in it, but he’s clearly not using it for anything, either.”

“I think it might still work.”

“I think you’re full of shit.”

Shirabu sidled over and reached out to the light switch beside the basement door. He looked at Semi, unblinking, as he flipped the switch.

A light flared to life somewhere below, illuminating the dusty stairs.

Semi could have sworn that Shirabu’s mouth twitched, but when he blinked, his face was as expressionless as ever.

“Now that it’s obvious we’re here,” said Shirabu, adjusting his grip on his gun, “do you want to announce us? Since you like hearing yourself talk.”

Semi was suddenly quite aware of the weight of the pistol in his hand. Shooting Shirabu didn’t cross his mind – he wouldn’t do that, no matter how annoying he was – but slapping him with the gun was a definite possibility.

Instead, he popped his head through the basement door and shouted, “Police! Is anyone down there?”

The declaration was greeted by silence.

That didn’t ease his tension, though, when he saw footprints stamped in the thick dust of the stairs.

“Do you want to go first?” asked Semi.

“Sure, if you’re scared,” said Shirabu, slipping past him.

“What? I didn’t mean-”

“Shh,” hissed Shirabu, as he descended the first steps.

Semi gritted his teeth and followed.

The upper level of the warehouse had been empty, but the basement was not. It had been converted into a storage space, with large equipment and stacks of boxes forming a veritable maze. It was obvious that most of the items had been sitting for a while. Cobwebs draped from the low ceiling, and the layers of dust dried out Semi’s throat. 

It was also obvious that someone else had been there, and recently. 

It wasn’t difficult to follow the footsteps across the gritty concrete floor. It led them to a far corner, which was less well-lit than the rest of the basement, but still bright enough for them to see the man sitting with his back against the wall, hunched over.

The two of them shared a look, and Semi said, “We’re with the Miyagi Police Department. Identify yourself.”

The man’s shoulders moved, but he said nothing.

Semi took another step closer. “I said we’re with the police. Identify yourself or you will be arrested.”

The man raised his head. He was grizzled, despite appearing only a few years older than Semi, and he smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in a while. Semi immediately classified him as homeless.

He’d probably just been looking for a place to stay that wasn’t the streets. Semi couldn’t fault him for that, although he couldn’t just let it slide, either.

“This is private property,” said Semi. “You’re not allowed to be here. We’ll escort you out.”

The man looked between them, and held out a gloved hand. “Help me up?” he asked, his voice rusty from disuse.

Shirabu gave Semi a pointed look before holstering his gun. Semi didn't put his away.

Shirabu took the man’s hand and heaved him to his feet. When Shirabu tried to move back, the gloved fingers tightened around his and yanked him closer.

“Fucking pigs,” the man snarled, his lip curling. He leaned close and spat directly into Shirabu’s face.

Shirabu took a step back, boots scuffing against concrete. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, stared at the gleaming saliva, and looked back up at the man it belonged to.

Semi saw the shift in Shirabu’s face. It was objectively subtle, but Semi had seen his lack of expression so often that it was a drastic change.

Shirabu’s mouth tightened into a flat line, his eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring. His lips peeled back from his teeth and he said, voice so low it was nearly a growl, “You absolute piece of _shit_.”

He threw a punch before Semi could stop him. 

His fist cracked into the side of the man’s face, and though he was taller than Shirabu and significantly larger, the hit dropped him.

He was on the ground, clutching at his face, but Shirabu wasn’t finished.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” said Shirabu, voice spiking. He threw a kick, boot slamming into the man’s ribs. “You nasty mother _fucker_.”

The man curled in on himself with a groan. 

Shirabu pulled his leg back for another kick but Semi seized his shoulder, throwing him off-balance.

Shirabu slapped his hand away. “What the fuck?”

“You need to calm down,” said Semi, backing away so Shirabu didn’t lash out at him, too. 

“Fuck you. He fucking spit on me!” said Shirabu. 

“I know,” said Semi, “and he’s trash, but you still can’t kick him.”

“Watch me.”

“Don’t- Shirabu, stop.”

“I said don’t touch me!” 

This time when Shirabu slapped him away, the contact stung.

“He’s been subdued,” snapped Semi. “Cuff him and let’s get the fuck out of here. We’ll charge him for assaulting you and the court can sort it out.”

Shirabu’s glare burned straight through him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” said Semi. “You know I’m right.”

He unclipped the cuffs from the back of his belt and stomped past Shirabu. “Put your hands behind your back, asshole.”

The man groaned again, but complied. Semi clicked the handcuffs around his wrists, gripped his arm, and hauled him to his feet. He gave him a less-than-gentle shove toward the stairs. “Walk.”

The man did as he was told, posture hunched, feet dragging. Semi matched the slow pace, alternating glances between the arrestee and Shirabu, who was still seething.

“Come on,” said Semi, when Shirabu made no move to follow. “Call it in.”

Shirabu glared at him. Semi expected to get a scathing reply to do it himself, but Shirabu gripped the radio speaker perched on his shoulder and spoke into it, informing dispatch of the arrest.

The man made it halfway up the stairs, and Semi seized a handful of his coat and leaned close. 

“Listen to me,” he hissed. “If you breathe a single word of what just happened, I’ll toss you into a cell with five other inmates and tell them you were arrested for child abuse. They don’t like guys who mess with kids. They’ll beat you up so badly that what just happened to you will be like a gentle slap on the wrist. Understand?”

The man scowled at the ground and nodded.

Semi checked over his shoulder. Shirabu still murmured into his radio, oblivious.

Semi gave the man another push toward the door.

  
  
  
  
  
They dropped him off at the jail and headed back toward the station to type up the usual incident report. Semi was driving, because he felt Shirabu may still be too angry to exercise good judgment. 

He thought about working with Tendou, who’d gone against protocol much more often than he should have. It had always been out of a misplaced sense of justice, though. Never out of anger.

They pulled into a parking spot behind the station and Semi cut the engine. He waited for Shirabu to get out first, but he didn’t move, his hands in his lap and his blank gaze focused somewhere through the windshield.

Semi thought maybe he should say something, but he didn’t know what. Before he could decide, Shirabu spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” said Shirabu, the words so low that they barely existed. “I lost my temper.”

Semi stared at him, astounded. 

He’d never thought he would see the day that Shirabu Kenjirou genuinely apologized for anything.

“It just pissed me off,” said Shirabu, residual heat leaking back into his voice. He wiped at his face with his sleeve, as if the saliva was still there. “I hate people like that.” A quiet moment passed between them before he continued. “Don’t worry about telling Captain Ushijima. I’ll do it myself.”

He reached for the door, but Semi said, “No, you won’t.”

Shirabu paused, arm extended, brow creased.

“You don’t have to tell him,” said Semi. “It’s not like you seriously hurt the guy. Let’s just not mention it. No one has to know.”

Shirabu’s stare was sharp. “Are you just saying that to try and get me in trouble? You’ll wait until I decide not to tell anyone and then run off to Ushijima so I get written up for lying.”

“Of course not,” said Semi, affronted. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you don’t like me.”

“What? You’re the one who doesn’t like me!”

Shirabu eyed him, uncertain. His hand finally slipped away from the door. “You’re really not going to say anything?”

“No, I’m not,” said Semi. “At this point both of us would get in trouble, anyway. Technically I should’ve called Ushijima as soon as it happened. But it wasn’t that big of a deal and I’m not going to tell him. Just don’t do it again, alright? Mind your temper.”

Semi had thought that was one thing he would never say. He’d been under the impression that Shirabu didn’t have enough emotions to have a temper.

It was kind of a relief to have seen that side of him, despite the circumstances. It made him more human, more relatable.

“Yeah, I know,” said Shirabu. “If that’s it, then let’s go. I need coffee.”

“Fine,” said Semi. He followed Shirabu into the station, and even when Shirabu let the door close in his face, Semi wasn’t nearly as annoyed as usual.

  
  
  
  
  
Over the next week, the two of them started getting along more easily. Shirabu’s snide remarks had become less frequent, and Semi didn’t snap at him as often. 

It was nice to have a partner he didn’t hate again. When Shirabu wasn’t being a sarcastic asshole, he wasn’t so bad. He was much more responsible than Tendou, anyway. Semi didn’t have to worry about him doing something stupid that would get both of them in trouble.

Around four a.m. on a Friday they were driving around one of the main streets that cut through the center of town, burning time until their shift ended. They weren’t speaking, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was closer to companionable than Semi had thought they would ever be.

Semi pulled up to a stoplight, his elbow propped on the open window, a hand curled loosely around the steering wheel. He glanced over at Shirabu, who stared serenely out at the row of businesses that had closed hours before. 

“I wonder what it’s like,” said Semi, “to sleep at nighttime like normal people.”

Shirabu shrugged. “Pretty boring, probably.”

“ _This_ is pretty boring,” said Semi, gesturing out toward the vacant streets. “Nothing happens this time of night.”

“Sometimes it does,” said Shirabu. “I’ve seen a lot of interesting things happen after midnight.”

Semi wanted to hear about those things. He started to ask a question, but a blur across the street caught his attention.

A red car veered through the intersection, just a shade over the speed limit. It swung past them and disappeared down a neighboring street.

Recognition plunged into Semi like a pointed dagger. He hit the accelerator, blew through the stoplight, and swerved around to follow the car.

Shirabu grabbed onto the car door for stability. “The hell are you doing?”

“Those are the guys,” said Semi, a little breathless. He yanked on the wheel and cut onto the next street. A flash of red disappeared half a block ahead of them. He stomped on the gas, reveling in the surge of horsepower.

“What guys?” said Shirabu. He was clearly confused, but still unshakably calm.

“The ones from that string of robberies,” said Semi. “The ones we were chasing when Tendou wrecked his cruiser. I would know that car anywhere.” He veered onto a connecting street. The red car was straight ahead, close, but not close enough. Semi flicked a switch on the dash and the blue lights flared to life.

Immediately the red car sped up. Semi cursed and followed. He reached for the radio, but Shirabu grabbed it first.

“Dispatch, 510. Ten-eighty-one on a red Mitsubishi Eclipse, currently traveling northbound near Block 64. Twenty-eight unknown. In pursuit, will advise.”

His tone was calm, unruffled. He hooked the speaker back on the rearview as the dispatcher said, “Ten-four, 510.”

Semi sped through an intersection, pushing the cruiser faster, but the red car outpaced him. It slid around a corner, the tail end nicking a street sign, before leveling out and speeding off again.

“Shit,” hissed Semi, following at a slightly slower pace. “They’re fucking insane.”

“Watch it,” said Shirabu, as the red car barely dodged a lonely truck that had just rounded the corner. 

The radio crackled, and this time it was Tendou’s voice that patched through. “503, 505. Is it the same ten-twenty-six?”

Semi tried for the radio again, but his fingers grabbed uselessly at Shirabu’s hand as he again seized it first. 

“Ten-four, 505,” said Shirabu. “We’re cutting through Block 59 now, changing direction to eastbound.”

“We’re on our way over,” said Tendou. “Ten eighty-two.”

“Tell him no,” snapped Semi. “This is what got him in trouble last time. If it happens again he’s out.”

“He’s with Ushijima,” said Shirabu. “He won’t let him fuck up.”

“Are you saying I did?”

“No, I’m saying they won’t get a chance to join the pursuit anyway. We’re going to have to back off.”

“What? Why?”

“This is unsafe,” said Shirabu. “It’s only a matter of time before this guy loses control and-”

There was a muffled crash in front of them. Semi hit the brakes, the cruiser shuddering as it screeched to a stop.

The red car had scraped alongside a white van in the intersection. Both vehicles had lurched to a stop. The door of the van swung open and a woman stepped out, gripping onto the frame of the vehicle for support. She looked at them, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the red car as its engine roared and it sped off again.

Semi gritted his teeth and surged forward, but Shirabu leaned over and yanked at the steering wheel. Semi hit the brakes on impulse, and the cruiser again jolted to a stop.

“What the fuck, Shirabu?”

“We can’t keep chasing them,” he said. “It’s too dangerous, for them and for everyone else. They could’ve killed that woman.”

“Exactly!” said Semi. “They could’ve killed her. Which is why we have to-”

“We have to stop,” said Shirabu flatly. “If she’d died while we were in pursuit, we would’ve had to answer for it. Isn’t this exactly what Tendou did? You tried to stop him then. Why aren’t you stopping yourself now?”

Semi wanted to snap back at him. He wanted to shout that Shirabu was wrong, that he had no place telling Semi what to do. He wanted to tell him that chasing the suspects was the best option, the best course of action.

He wanted to say a lot of things, but all of them were lies.

He knew he should stop. He’d known continuing the pursuit was the wrong thing to do when it was Tendou, and it was the wrong thing now.

He knew, but he hated it.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slamming the cruiser into park. He flung the door open and said, “Check in with dispatch. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“Stop making that face,” said Shirabu as he reached for the radio. “You’ll scare her.” 

Semi scowled at him, but did try to arrange his face into something less intimidating as he stomped across the pavement.

He knew discontinuing the pursuit was the right course of action.

That didn’t make him any less bitter about it.

  
  
  
  
  
An hour and a half later, Semi pillowed his head on his arms and slumped over onto the desk in the patrol room. Shirabu was seated across from him, tapping away at the keyboard as he finished up their report.

“If you’re not going to help,” said Shirabu, “the least you could do is stay awake until I’m finished.” He kicked at Semi’s boots beneath the desk.

“I’m awake,” grumbled Semi, unmoving. “And I did help. I started it and you said I type too slow.”

“You do,” said Shirabu, his fingers still dancing across the keyboard. “You type like my grandma. She only uses two fingers, too.”

He was exaggerating, but Semi wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. He wasn’t in the mood for much of anything, except going home and stewing in his own disappointment.

The rapid typing stopped. There were a few seconds of stillness before Shirabu said, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” said Semi. He raised his head to find Shirabu watching him, eyes narrow with speculation. 

“You’re lying.”

“Fuck you,” mumbled Semi. He pushed himself to his feet and said, “I’ll be back in a minute.” He plodded out of the patrol room, ignoring the sensation of Shirabu’s eyes on his back.

He’d been furious at the site of the incident, but since they’d gotten back to the station, that rage had faded into a dull, throbbing resentment. He was bitter toward the suspects for getting away, at Tendou for getting himself into trouble over them, and himself for not knowing when to quit. If Shirabu hadn’t been there, he wasn’t certain he would’ve stopped. He’d thought he was above such irresponsibility. It was frustrating to know he was making the same mistakes as Tendou, especially since he’d spent so much time reprimanding Tendou for bad decisions.

It was even more frustrating, though, to know that the robbers were still out there somewhere, likely planning their next escapade.

He moved down the hallway and shoved open the door of the small bathroom. He stepped in, flicked on the light, and pushed the door shut.

It bounced back at him when a boot wedged itself between the door and the frame.

Shirabu slipped inside and kicked the door shut behind him. Before Semi could say anything, Shirabu had him crowded against the wall, studying him with furrowed brows and a tight frown.

Semi’s surprise left him blank. He just stared, confused, until Shirabu reached down to pull at the buckle of Semi’s belt.

That snapped Semi back into reality.

“What the _fuck?_ ” He said, voice pitching unnaturally high as he slapped Shirabu’s hands away. “Why are you – is this – what the fuck?”

Shirabu’s face didn’t change. “Stop yelling. I’m going to suck you off.”

That explanation did nothing to solve Semi’s dizzying confusion. If anything, it only baffled him more. “What?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “You’re clearly still frustrated about losing the suspects. Your attitude is stressing me out. I’m trying to help you so just shut up.”

Shirabu reached for him again but Semi gripped his belt, keeping it secure. “Hang on, just… just wait a minute. Are you serious right now?”

Shirabu’s stare was flat. “Do I look serious?”

He did.

“We can’t just… just _do this_ ,” hissed Semi. “If we get a call-”

“Captain Ushijima said he would cover our zone until our report is finished,” said Shirabu. “We won’t get any calls.”

“But if we get caught-”

“We won’t.”

Semi looked from the door to Shirabu and back again. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t even count how many protocols this would break.”

“So you’re not opposed to putting your dick in my mouth,” said Shirabu. “Only the possibility of getting caught with your pants down.”

Semi sputtered for a response, but none of his words would knit together. Of course he was opposed to it. Of all the people in the world, Shirabu Kenjirou was the last one that he would want anywhere near his dick.

He’d always assumed so anyway, when they’d started working together.

Now the slight stirring in the front of his pants suggested otherwise. 

He pressed himself back further against the wall and hoped Shirabu didn’t notice.

“Fine then,” said Shirabu. “Our shift ends in half an hour. We’ll go back to your place.” 

He turned on his heel and started for the door. He already had one foot in the hallway when Semi said, “Why my place?”

Shirabu glanced over his shoulder, one brow raised. “My roommate doesn’t get along well with new people.”

“Roommate?”

“I live with my old partner,” said Shirabu. “He’s temperamental around strangers.”

“Well my roommate is Tendou,” snapped Semi. “If he catches us then we’re fucked.”

“Make sure he doesn’t catch us then,” said Shirabu. “I guess that means you want to?”

Semi opened his mouth to argue, but quickly closed it again. 

He realized, much too late, that he was actually considering this.

No, he’d moved past consideration without even realizing it. They were making plans to hook up after their shift.

He wasn’t as bothered as he should’ve been.

“We’ll go to your place,” said Shirabu firmly, “or we won’t go at all.”

Semi thought about disagreeing, chewed over his words, and finally snapped, “Fine.”

“Okay then.” Shirabu moved into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind him. 

Semi exhaled and slumped forward, slapping a hand over his burning face. 

He could not believe he’d just agreed to that.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

In fact, from the heat trickling into his lower body, it seemed he was rather looking forward to it.

He had a flash of memory from the week before, when the man in the warehouse had spat in Shirabu’s face. He thought of Shirabu’s snarl, of the fire in his eyes, of his ferocity.

The trickle of heat surged hotter, and Semi hissed a curse under his breath when he realized he was half-hard.

Semi hated himself a little, but he thought he hated Shirabu just a little bit more.


	2. Chapter 2

Semi thought if he could just get home before Tendou, he and his questionable company could shut themselves in Semi’s room and go unnoticed.  


It was a valid plan until he parked his cruiser in the lot outside the apartment building and saw, with a flicker of dread, that Tendou’s cruiser was already there.

“Fuck,” said Semi. 

“I don’t know what you’re so worried about,” said Shirabu mildly. He sat with his legs stretched out and his arms folded, appearing perfectly at ease.

He didn’t understand how Shirabu could be so calm about this when Semi’s nerves were stretched to their breaking point.

“We’re not supposed to… you know,” said Semi, gesturing vaguely. He couldn’t say “hook up”, or “fuck”, or any other variation, because he hadn’t quite admitted to himself that it was about to happen. “It’s against policy.”

“Do you think Tendou is going to tell the captain?”

“Of course not. I just don’t want him to be incriminated if someone finds out and this all goes to shit.” That was true, but he also didn’t want Tendou to mock him for the next decade. As much as Semi had complained about Shirabu, Tendou would never let him hear the end of this.

“No one will find out,” said Shirabu. “You’re overthinking this.”

“If we could just go to your place instead…”

“No,” said Shirabu flatly. “I already told you about my roommate. It’s here or nowhere.”

Semi scowled at him, and was tempted to tell Shirabu to take his bad attitude and get out.

Then he thought about the way Shirabu had pinned him up against the bathroom wall, about the way the heat in his eyes had stolen Semi’s breath.

“Fine,” snapped Semi, slinging open the car door. “Come on.”

He led the way up the stairs and down the hall, stopping in front of the door labeled “242”. He tilted his head to listen, but heard nothing from inside. He glanced at Shirabu and said, “Wait here for a minute.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Semi slipped inside the apartment – Tendou had left the door unlocked for him – and looked around the living room. 

Tendou was nowhere in sight.

He ventured further in, hovering at the mouth of the hallway that led to their respective bedrooms. 

He heard the hiss of the shower, muted by the closed door.

Semi slumped a little in relief. He turned back to fetch Shirabu, only to find that he’d wandered into the apartment of his own volition and was unlacing his boots on the doormat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” whispered Semi, hoping the heat of his stare would compensate for the quiet tone.

“I’m taking off my boots,” said Shirabu in a normal voice. “What’s it look like?” The first one thumped to the floor and he started pulling at the strings of the second.

Semi stomped closer, snatched the discarded boot, and yanked Shirabu toward the hallway. “You can’t leave your shoes there. Tendou will know someone is here.”

Shirabu yanked his arm back, but still followed as Semi herded him into his bedroom and kicked the door closed. Semi twisted the lock, pushed a handful of hair away from his forehead, and looked at Shirabu. 

Neither of them moved. 

Semi wasn’t sure what to do now. He really wasn’t sure that he should do anything. This entire situation was birthed of bad judgment. At the station, he should have pushed Shirabu away and ignored the suggestion. He should have forgotten that it had even happened. This was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be doing this, he shouldn’t-

Shirabu unlatched his duty belt and draped it across the back of a desk chair. Semi had never seen him without it. He looked different, bare.

“It’s a fucking miracle you haven’t died of a heart attack yet,” said Shirabu, as he stepped closer. He pulled at the buckle of Semi’s belt, and this time, Semi didn’t stop him. “You’re too high strung. Learn to relax.”

“That doesn’t mean much coming from you,” said Semi, though there wasn’t as much heat behind the words as he would have liked. “You’re not relaxed. You’re just apathetic.”

“Same difference,” said Shirabu. He tugged, and Semi’s heavy belt slithered down his hips. Shirabu set it aside and then they were looking at each other again.

It wasn’t as awkward as Semi would have expected. It was like standing at the edge of a deep pool, scraping up the courage to dive in. 

He wasn’t sure how long it would’ve taken him to leap, because Shirabu stepped off the edge first.

He went down on his knees in front of Semi, reaching up to pull at his zipper, his face as calm as ever. He tucked his fingers beneath the band of Semi’s underwear and pulled them down with his pants. Shirabu stared, then tipped his head back to look up at Semi, expression unreadable.

“What?” snapped Semi, heat rising to his face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Shirabu planted his hands on Semi’s thighs and gave him a push. He stumbled back a step and his shoulders thumped against the closed door. Before he could protest, Shirabu scuffed closer on his knees and sucked Semi into his mouth.

Semi bit his lip so hard that the sudden pain nearly washed out the pleasure. It was necessary, though. He couldn’t moan, not like he almost did, not this soon. He pried his teeth out of his lip and fisted his hands at his sides, sucking in a ragged breath as Shirabu’s tongue traced the length of his quickly hardening cock, lingering on the tip, hot and warm and irresistible.

“Fuck,” said Semi, the curse leaving his lips like a prayer. 

Shirabu pulled off and looked up at him. “You’re still too stressed.” His tone was flat. Bored, almost, as if this was routine for him. 

Semi found himself hoping it wasn’t. He didn’t like the thought of Shirabu getting on his knees for just anyone.

“Here,” said Shirabu. He wrapped a hand around one of Semi’s clenched fists and pried it open, guiding Semi’s fingers to thread into the back of his hair. 

Shirabu leaned in again and resumed his work on Semi’s cock, and Semi tightened his fingers into Shirabu’s hair automatically. 

Shirabu didn’t seem to mind. He hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head, swallowing Semi so deeply that he nudged against the back of Shirabu’s throat. 

Semi’s head thumped back against the door. 

One of Shirabu’s hands fisted in the edge of Semi’s shirt. He shoved it halfway up Semi’s stomach, holding it there, exposing more skin. His other hand slipped between Semi’s legs, fondling his balls, lightly tugging as he rolled his tongue against the underside of Semi’s cock.

“Semi-Semi!” 

Something slammed into the door, and Semi made a startled sound halfway between a shout and a whimper.

He realized he’d yanked at Shirabu’s hair and immediately released him, earning a resentful glare.

“You back yet?” said Tendou, his voice loud even through the closed door.

Semi swallowed and said, “Yeah, I’m here. I’m going to bed.”

“I’m finished with the bathroom.”

“I’ll shower in the morning.”

There was a beat of silence and Semi hoped his inconvenient roommate would just wander away. 

“Hey, Semi-Semi?” said Tendou, more quietly. “Are you okay? You sound weird.”

Semi felt an insane urge to laugh. “Yeah, I’m good. Goodnight, Tendou.”

“’Night, Semi-Semi.”

His footsteps scuffed away into silence. Semi huffed a breath and slumped against the door.

“Do you have high blood pressure?” asked Shirabu. He rose from the floor and began methodically unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

“What? No. I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Convincing,” scoffed Shirabu. “You need to burn off some of that stress. If you don’t, you’ll snap someday and get both of us killed.” He slipped the uniform off of his shoulders, and yanked his undershirt over his head. His pants followed, and then he was just in snugly fitting briefs, walking around Semi’s room like he belonged there. He yanked out the drawer of Semi’s end table and sifted through the contents.

Semi couldn’t even stop him. He just stared, mouth suddenly a little dry.

Lean muscle shifted beneath the pale skin of Shirabu’s back as he stood upright, prize in hand. He looked at Semi over his shoulder and raised a brow. “You’re not fucking me in your uniform.”

Semi wanted to bite back a scathing comment, or at least maintain some semblance of caution. Instead he scrabbled at the buttons of his shirt, tossing it aside and nearly tripping over the pants still pooled at his ankles. By the time he’d freed himself, Shirabu was sprawled in the middle of his bed, completely bare, teasing at himself with slick fingers. 

“If you’re just going to stand there,” said Shirabu, pressing one in, “I have no problem finishing up by myself.”

Semi took a breath that caught uncomfortably in his throat and moved to the side of the bed. Shirabu rolled his head to the side to look at him, and his eyes dipped lower.

“I never pictured you with a tattoo,” said Shirabu. He didn’t smile, but it sounded smug.

Semi slapped a hand against his hip, covering the ink, his face burning. “Fuck off. Tendou talked me into it when we were drunk.”

“A bird. Very manly.”

“It’s a fucking eagle,” mumbled Semi.

Shirabu’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, almost mocking. Then he slipped a second finger inside himself and that smile twisted into a wince.

Semi’s dick throbbed.

He cleared his throat and said, “Do you want me to…?” He only hoped that Shirabu knew what he meant, because he couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

“No,” said Shirabu. “Got a condom?”

“Yeah, of course. I, uh… just a minute.”

It had been a while since Semi had invited anyone over. It was rare that he found time to meet anyone with his demanding work schedule. As a result, it was frustrating yet unsurprising when he pawed through all three drawers of his end table and came up empty.

“Fuck,” he said. “I can… hang on. I’ll be right back.”

Shirabu looked wholly unimpressed as Semi yanked his underwear back on and stepped out into the dark hallway. 

He felt his way along by memory alone, unwilling to risk alerting Tendou to his presence by flicking on a light. He stubbed his toe against the bathroom doorway, cursed under his breath, and nudged the door shut before turning on the light. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked anxious and panicked, a little wild. He tried to smooth down his hair, but the damage was irreparable. 

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if Shirabu was actually attracted to him, anyway. He was just annoyed by Semi’s debilitating stress.

That was fine. It wasn’t as if he was attracted to Shirabu, either. 

It wasn’t as if the thought of Shirabu naked on his bed, fingering himself, made Semi want to implode.

Semi shook his head and dug through the cabinet beneath the sink, knocking over shampoo bottles and displacing Tendou’s impressive stock of hair products. Near the back there was a box of condoms that Tendou had bought for “emergencies”. At the time, Semi had thought he was absolutely ridiculous.

Now he was grateful for Tendou’s forethought.

He rushed back down the hallway, nearly tripped, and slipped back into his room.

He was greeted with the sight of Shirabu’s spread legs, three fingers sliding in and out of him, his other hand tracing the curve of his cock.

As Semi stepped closer, Shirabu looked at him. Other than the slight warmth dusting his cheeks, he appeared otherwise unaffected. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Yeah,” said Semi. He stared for a minute too long, then shook himself and tried again. “Yeah, I, uh… yeah.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. He slid his fingers out and wiped them on Semi’s bedsheets. “Any fucking time, Semi-san.”

Semi shook himself, kicked off his underwear, and crawled onto the bed. He fidgeted with the condom, struggling to tear it open, until Shirabu slapped it out of his hands and did it himself.

“If I didn’t know any better,” said Shirabu, ripping open the foil, “I would think this was your first time.”

“Fuck you,” mumbled Semi, face warming. 

“I thought that was the point,” said Shirabu, “but you don’t seem to be getting around to it anytime soon.” He gave Semi a shove. “Lay down.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

Semi wanted to be annoyed by Shirabu’s attitude. He wanted to scowl and snap back and fall into their usual routine.

Instead, he laid back like Shirabu told him to, uncomfortably aware of the way Shirabu’s eyes raked along the lean lines of his body.

A handful of heavy heartbeats thumped in Semi’s chest before Shirabu moved, straddling Semi’s hips, his calves warm where they folded against Semi’s thighs. Shirabu reached back and gripped the base of Semi’s cock, and a thrum of hot sensation pulsed all the way to Semi’s fingertips.

Shirabu raised a brow at him, as if asking for permission.

Semi bit his lip and nodded, hyper-focused on the way Shirabu’s muscles shifted as he steadied himself over Semi and slowly sank down. When he was fully seated, Shirabu leaned forward and braced his hands on either side of Semi’s shoulders. The lines of his face were tight with strain, but he looked at Semi with determined focus that made Semi want to sit up and kiss him.

Even if he’d worked up the courage to do that, he wouldn’t have been given an opportunity. Shirabu raised his hips, Semi slowly sliding out of him, and then slammed back down without warning.

Semi slapped a hand over his mouth to contain the embarrassing sound that threatened to spill out. Shirabu ground his hips in circles, acquainting himself with the stretch. Then he went up on his knees, dropped down again, and started riding Semi at a pace that stole his breath.

“ _Fuck_ ,” hissed Semi, more loudly than he’d intended. He grabbed at Shirabu’s arms, felt up to his shoulders, and then smoothed his palms along his sides, lingering at his hips, feeling the ebb and flow of them as Shirabu continued to move. He looked between them, watched the way he disappeared into Shirabu, reveled in the hot, solid sensation of him.

He looked back up and found Shirabu watching him, brow furrowed, mouth slanted.

“What?” said Semi.

Shirabu shook his head and pushed down onto Semi even harder.

Semi muttered a curse and tightened his grip on Shirabu’s hips. He dug his heels into the mattress, seeking leverage, and rolled up into Shirabu in a quick, swift stroke.

Shirabu made a choking sound, his face contorting, hands clenching in the sheets.

Semi did it again, and again, and after a few thrusts, a low moan trickled through Shirabu’s parted lips.

When Shirabu had touched him, Semi had felt as if he’d been dipped in the warmth of the summer sun. Now, with Shirabu tight around him and his low, quiet moan lingering on the air, Semi was certain he’d been set aflame.

He braced an elbow on the bed and shoved Shirabu to the side, where he landed on his back with a huff. Semi crawled over him, his elbows framing Shirabu’s face, their hot breath mixing together in the small space between them.

Semi shifted his weight to one arm and ran a hand along Shirabu’s ribs, smoothing along his hip, across his thigh. He curled his fingers beneath Shirabu’s knee and raised his leg, hooking it around his own hips as he thrust forward and sank back into Shirabu.

Shirabu bit down on a moan, but Semi still heard the whisper of it slide through his teeth.

He nudged at Shirabu’s other leg until he took the hint and wrapped both of them around Semi, hooking his ankles at Semi’s lower back. 

Semi again braced both arms on the mattress, caught his breath as he watched Shirabu’s face, and then started thrusting into him with fervor.

Shirabu’s nails latched onto Semi’s back, digging into him like claws. His face twisted with an expression that was almost a snarl as Semi pounded into him.

It reminded Semi of the face Shirabu made in that warehouse basement just before he’d thrown a punch.

Desire stole the breath from Semi’s lungs, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and stop his thrusts to keep himself from coming.

When he was steadier, he forced himself to look at Shirabu again and found him staring back, cheeks pink, hair stuck to his forehead, seemingly at ease beneath the sweaty press of Semi’s body.

Shirabu arched a brow, but there was a subtle tug of a smile beneath it. “Finished already?”

“No,” said Semi. “Not until you are.” He brushed the hair away from Shirabu’s forehead, realizing too late that it was more intimate than he’d intended it to be.

Shirabu squeezed his legs around Semi and rolled up against him. “Then don’t stop.”

Semi quirked a grin back at him, but it fell away when he braced his knees and started thrusting again. This time he slipped a hand between them and curled his fingers around Shirabu’s cock. He stroked, lightly, and Shirabu made a sound that was nearly a whine.

Semi slammed his hips forward even harder and pumped Shirabu’s dick, rubbing his thumb over the tip, matching the flick of his wrist with the speed of his thrusts.

Shirabu clung to him, eyes half-lidded and mouth open, a moan building in his chest before rolling into the electric air between them.

“Fuck,” said Semi, so quietly that it was almost swallowed up by the slap of skin against skin. He stroked more quickly and Shirabu’s back arched off of the bed. He clenched more tightly around Semi as broken syllables tripped out of his mouth. 

Semi thrust deeply, gave him a particularly tight stroke, and Shirabu spasmed as he came. He sprayed across Semi’s hand and over his own stomach, voice pitching into a high moan as his legs seized tightly around Semi. His head fell back, exposing the smooth, pale skin of his throat.

Semi wanted to lean closer, to press his lips against Shirabu’s neck and nip at the skin and maybe leave his mark there.

Instead he thrust into Shirabu a few more times before reaching his own peak of pleasure, burying himself deep and pressing his forehead against Shirabu’s shoulder as he came.

He pulled out and rolled to the side, collapsing beside Shirabu, his body spent. He fumbled with the condom, tying it off and tossing it toward the small trash can a few feet away.

He missed, and it slapped against the floor.

Shirabu stirred, and Semi thought he was going to go pick it up. But Shirabu only leaned over the side of the bed, grabbed the first thing his fingers found, and used it to clean himself off. He then offered the makeshift towel to Semi, who realized Shirabu had just wiped come all over Semi’s underwear. He tossed him a half-hearted scowl, but Shirabu wasn’t bothered. He burrowed into the sheets as Semi gave in and used his underwear to wipe himself off. 

Shirabu nestled into one of Semi’s pillows and closed his eyes. He seemed relaxed, at peace. 

He seemed like he was about to fall asleep.

“Uh,” said Semi. “Are you staying here?”

Shirabu didn’t bother looking at him. “We just finished a twelve-hour shift. I’m exhausted.”

Semi thought about arguing. He didn’t know the complete implications of what they’d just done, but he was fairly certain it shouldn’t include a sleepover.

But it wasn’t as if he minded having Shirabu in his bed, especially not when he looked so comfortable and docile.

“Okay, whatever,” said Semi. He stretched off the edge of the bed and fumbled for the lights before slipping beneath the covers himself. He was very aware of Shirabu, a warm presence weighing down one side of his mattress.

Shirabu’s toes nudged against his leg. “See? You’re not stressed about work anymore.”

Semi couldn’t argue with that. He was no longer stressed about anything aside from the knowledge that he was going to wake up beside Shirabu in a few hours. “Yeah.”

Shirabu inched a little closer, his bare leg sliding against Semi’s. “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you,” said Semi, though the words were fond.

“Sure. Goodnight, Semi-san.”

Semi sighed, but couldn’t deny the soft smile on his face. “Goodnight.”  
  
  
  
  
As it turned out, Semi didn’t wake up beside Shirabu.

When he rolled onto his side and blinked into full awareness, the bed was empty. He reached out and pressed a hand against the vacant sheets. 

They were still a little warm.

He crawled upright, started to reach for the discarded underwear on the floor, and vaguely recalled that they were covered in dried come. Instead he shuffled across the room and pulled a clean pair out of his wardrobe. He popped his head into the hallway. The bathroom door was open, but the light was off. 

Shirabu must have left. 

He turned back toward his room and caught a glimpse of Shirabu’s duty belt, still hanging neatly on the back of the desk chair. 

From down the hall, Semi heard Tendou’s obnoxious laugh.

He threw himself out of the room and rushed down the hall, skidding to a clumsy stop when he reached the kitchen.

Tendou was tilting back at a precarious angle in one of the kitchen chairs, a dangerous grin on his face. Shirabu leaned against the counter with a mug pressed between his palms, wearing his undershirt from the night before and a pair of sweatpants that were unmistakably Semi’s.

The two of them looked up at Semi’s arrival; Shirabu with marked disinterest, Tendou with absolute glee.

“Good morning, Semi-Semi,” he said, his grin curving even higher. “Have a good night?”

Semi ignored him. It wasn’t difficult; he’d gotten a lot of practice over the years. He addressed Shirabu with a sharp, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Drinking coffee.”

“Fucking obviously! I mean what are you doing in here? With _him?_ ”

Tendou cackled. “Are you afraid I’m going to steal your man, Semi-Semi? Don’t worry, that was only the one time. Shirabu is safe from my irresistible charm.”

“Fuck you,” snapped Semi. He looked back to Shirabu and said, “I told you I didn’t want him to know!”

Shirabu shrugged. “You also said he won’t tell Ushijima.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?” said Shirabu. “I thought your only reservations were with the possibility of getting caught. Are you ashamed that we fucked?”

Tendou made a choking sound, but he was still smiling.

“That’s not what I said!” shouted Semi.

“Is it what you meant?” 

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s the problem,” said Shirabu, “as long as we don’t tell anyone who will get us in trouble?”

Semi glared at him. He was furious, but he didn’t know if that fury was more for Shirabu or Tendou or himself.

Shirabu sighed and sat his drink to the side. He plucked an upside-down coffee mug out of the dish-drainer on the counter and poured it half-full of coffee. He held the mug by the bottom in offering.

With a huff, Semi stomped forward and took it.

“I think you forgot your pants, Semi-Semi.”

“Go to hell, Tendou.”  
  
  
  
  
Semi was afraid that the hook-up would make things awkward between them. He expected tension and uncomfortable glances, and perhaps even a deteriorating ability to work together as partners.

None of that happened. If anything, the two of them got along more smoothly than ever.

“It’s the same homeless guy from last week,” said Shirabu, peering in the clear glass windows of the convenience store. “He’s passed out by the beer cooler. What a surprise.”

“We’ll have to take him to the jail until he sobers up,” said Semi. He folded his arms and sighed. “I just hope he doesn’t smell like cat piss this time.”

Shirabu slid him a glance. “If you drag him out I’ll write up the report later.”

Semi considered that. He wasn’t eager to haul an inebriated man who tended to skip showers into the back of his police cruiser, but he also despised writing reports.

“Fine,” said Semi, “but only if you write the weekly activity report, too.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes but gave in.

An hour later they were back at the station. Semi swore he still smelled like a litterbox from having to bodily carry the man out of the convenience store, but Shirabu insisted it was his imagination.

Semi lounged back in his chair, idly swiveling back and forth, as Shirabu typed away at the desk across from him.

“Should I make a note about the stench?” asked Shirabu, pausing. “I think it’s relevant.”

Semi hummed. “Maybe. Meth houses smell like cat piss. It could be related.”

Shirabu pursed his lips, considering. Then he started typing again, and Semi found himself staring. There were plenty of people who could match Shirabu’s typing speed. Tendou likely could have outpaced him. Still, there was something entrancing about watching Shirabu’s fingers dance across the keys, smooth and fluid.

His hands stilled, and Semi belatedly realized that Shirabu had paused to stare at him. 

“What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Shirabu.

“I wasn’t.” Semi swiveled his chair in the other direction.

Still, the typing didn’t start back up. 

A few seconds ticked by, then Shirabu said, “You should come over after work.”

He started back up on the report, striking the keys with more force than a moment before.

Semi spun back around so quickly that he nearly toppled out of his chair. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why? Do you want to…?” Semi trailed off without finishing the question. They hadn’t hooked up again after the first time, and he wasn’t sure if Shirabu was trying to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Shirabu shrugged one shoulder, eyes still on the computer screen. “If you want to.”

The silence that fell between them was loaded with expectation. Semi glanced around, although there was no one to overhear, and said, “Yeah, okay.”

Shirabu nodded once in acknowledgement and said nothing more.

When their shift ended, Shirabu was the one who slid into the driver’s side of the cruiser and steered it out of the lot.

Semi had no idea where Shirabu lived, so he was surprised when they ended up at a set of classy apartments not too far from Semi’s home. Shirabu turned the car off but made no move to get out. 

“Before we go in,” said Shirabu, “you need to understand some things about my roommate.”

Semi listened quietly, his curiosity peaking. 

“He doesn’t like strangers very much,” said Shirabu, “but he might be okay with you. He’s used to being around officers. Just don’t move too fast around him, he gets startled easily. And don’t look him directly in the eyes. He considers it a challenge.”

“What do you-”

“Don’t raise your voice, either,” said Shirabu, cutting him short. “He hates that.”

Shirabu got out of the car and started toward the apartments. Semi was too confused to immediately follow, but he caught up with him as they ascended the stairs toward the fourth floor.

Semi should have just invited Shirabu to his apartment instead. Tendou wasn’t exactly normal, but it sounded like he was preferable to Shirabu’s strange roommate. 

Semi thought about changing his mind and just going home.

But then Shirabu looked at him over his shoulder, and he remembered the sight of Shirabu on his back, face wiped with bliss. He remembered the heat of his body and the sound of his moans and decided that he would take his chances with whatever roommate Shirabu introduced.

Shirabu unlocked the door and stepped inside. Semi followed, but didn’t have time to appreciate the interior of the apartment before a massive dog rounded the corner, ears perked forward, black eyes on Semi.

“It’s fine, Jiro,” said Shirabu, leaning against the wall to unlace his boots. “Stand down.”

The dog’s posture went a little less stiff, his ears twitching as he stalked closer to lick at Shirabu’s hand. Jiro’s shoulder was level with Shirabu’s hip. His chest was broad and his paws were huge and when he licked at his muzzle, Semi caught a flash of large canines.

The dog was still looking at Semi, and he fidgeted uncomfortably, still standing in the doorway. 

“You could’ve warned me that you have a big ass dog,” said Semi, trying not to sound as uncertain as he felt. 

“I did,” said Shirabu. “Jiro is my roommate.”

“What?”

Semi thought about Shirabu’s warnings in the car: move slowly, avoid eye contact, keep a low voice. 

They did make more sense in this context, when the roommate was a dog rather than a sinister stranger. 

Then Semi recalled what Shirabu had said to him when they’d first started working together.

He’d said his roommate was his partner, who’d retired from policework. He was temperamental around strangers and had boasted significant experience when it came to drug crimes.

Semi realized Shirabu’s ex-partner had been a police dog.

“Oh,” he said, feeling dumb. “That actually makes a lot more sense.”

Shirabu raised a brow at him.

“Who else could’ve been your partner for that long?” said Semi. “No other human being could stand you.”

Shirabu glared at him. “Before you say anything else, remember that Jiro would tear out your throat without hesitation if I told him to.”

Semi looked from Shirabu to the dog and back again. “Yeah, but you won’t tell him to.” He knelt to unknot his bootstrings, and Jiro crept closer.

“Hey, Jiro,” said Semi, keeping his voice low and calm. He held out his hand for the dog to sniff. “You’re really fucking big. Please don’t eat me.”

Shirabu snorted.

Jiro gave him a lingering sniff, then licked at the tips of his fingers and wandered away, satisfied.

“What kind of dog is he?” asked Semi.

“German Shepherd.”

“What-fucking-ever. He looks like a wolf.”

“I have his pedigree, if you’d like to see it,” said Shirabu. He unlatched his duty belt and hung it from a hook on the wall. “I adopted him when he retired from the job.”

“So that’s your ex-partner who was so much better at policework than I am.”

“That’s him. It’s still true.”

Semi rolled his eyes and followed Shirabu through the apartment, taking inventory of the neat surfaces and perfectly aligned furniture.

“You should probably take a shower,” said Shirabu. “You stink.”

“What? You said you didn’t smell anything!”

“I lied. The bathroom is over there. Use it. I’m not touching you while you smell like that.”

Semi scowled and stomped away. He almost slammed the bathroom door behind him, but remembered Jiro and closed it more gently.

He stripped out of his uniform, left it lying in a pile on the tile floor, and stepped into the hot shower spray. He dipped his head beneath the water and let it drip into his face, carving scalding trails down to his chin. With an exhale of relief, he pushed wet hair out of his face, dumped some of Shirabu’s shampoo into his palm, and started scrubbing.

The longer he soaked in the warm water, the more relaxed his tense muscles became. He hadn’t realized how uptight he’d been during his shift until he began to wind down.

“Did you drown in there?”

Semi sucked in a steamy breath, startled by the sudden voice. He hadn’t heard the door. He grabbed the edge of the shower curtain and peeked out to find Shirabu bending over to pull off his socks. His shirt was already gone and his unbuttoned pants hung low on his hips.

“What are you doing?” said Semi, wiping water out of his face with the back of his hand.

“I need a shower tonight, too,” said Shirabu. “If I don’t take one now, you’re going to use up all the hot water.”

“Oh. Just give me a second and I’ll-”

“Just move over,” said Shirabu. He shucked off his pants, kicked his underwear aside, and pushed open the shower curtain. “There’s room for both of us.”

He slipped in before Semi could argue, nudging him aside and stepping into the shower spray. 

Semi inched back, wondering if he should get out and let Shirabu have the shower to himself.

“Hand me that shampoo,” said Shirabu, holding out a hand as he ducked his head under the water and closed his eyes.

Semi did as he was told, pushing the bottle into Shirabu’s hand and taking a minute to appreciate the lean lines of Shirabu’s body, glistening with water.

Shirabu was attractive. Semi had understood that since the day they met, but it had never seemed relevant considering the annoying personality that was tied to the appearance. 

Over the past couple of weeks, though, Semi was beginning to think Shirabu’s personality wasn’t so bad, after all. He was rather pleasant, at times, and not only because they’d hooked up. Semi thought he might actually like him.

He dragged his eyes upward. Shirabu was staring at him, his wet hair plastered to his head, a small crease between his brows that suggested he was pondering something. He looked older with his hair pushed away from his forehead, closer to his actual age. 

Shirabu reached out for Semi’s wrist and tugged him a step closer. The cascading water bounced off of Shirabu’s shoulders and sprayed against Semi’s chest. Shirabu tipped his head back, his gaze unwavering, his eyes softer than Semi had ever seen them. Wet fingers pressed against Semi’s stomach and roamed upward, feeling over his chest, sliding up his neck, and touching the line of his jaw.

Semi swallowed, heat flaring in his stomach that was different than the heat of a week before, when they’d been at his apartment instead.

Shirabu leaned closer, his breath grazing Semi’s lips. He paused there, in suspended motion, as if giving Semi a chance to push him away.

Semi didn’t, and Shirabu stretched up to kiss him.

Their mouths slipped together, moist from the shower, gentle yet insistent. Shirabu gripped Semi’s shoulders, and Semi’s hands drifted down to slide in the water dripping along Shirabu’s hips. Semi licked a spatter of droplets away from Shirabu’s mouth and slipped his tongue between softly parted lips. 

He expected Shirabu to kiss in a way that matched his attitude; hard and indifferent with just a touch of suppressed aggression. But the way his tongue slid against Semi’s was slow, deliberate. His grip tightened on Semi’s shoulders as he pulled back, nipping at Semi’s lip just before they separated.

They remained close, watching each other, the breaths between them hotter than the hissing water.

Semi adjusted his grip on Shirabu’s hips and pushed him against the shower wall. Semi pressed against him, their bare bodies slick, realizing only when his cock rubbed against Shirabu’s that both of them were hard. 

He was vaguely aware that he was aroused, but it was a different sort of arousal than he’d experienced the last time. Back then the entire purpose had been the sex. They hadn’t even kissed, because that would have been too intimate.

Now Semi was burning, and it wasn’t from the shower or from sexual desire.

It was just Shirabu, looking up at him without a trace of irritation lining his face, his eyes slightly lidded and his hair a wet mess. It was the slight quirk of his mouth as he almost smiled, his fingers tracing the planes of Semi’s chest. It was the texture of Shirabu’s mouth against his when Semi leaned in again, his lips moving more urgently this time, Shirabu kissing him back with equal avarice.

When they broke apart, Semi didn’t back away. He dipped his head and nosed against Shirabu’s jaw, traveling down to suck at the wet skin of his neck. Shirabu inhaled, sharply, when Semi’s teeth barely traced the line of his throat. His nails were embedded in Semi’s shoulders, his hips twitching forward, seeking friction.

Semi trailed his fingers down Shirabu’s torso and gripped their cocks together in his hand, giving a slow, wet stroke.

Shirabu’s forehead dropped onto his shoulder, his whispered moan fading into the white noise of the shower.

“Hey,” murmured Semi. “You want to do this here, or…?

“No,” said Shirabu. He fumbled blindly at the wall, clawing at the faucet until the water dripped to a stop. “Towel.”

Semi obligingly reached past the curtain and snagged a pair of towels off of the rack beyond.

The journey from the shower to the bedroom wasn’t smooth. It was clumsy if anything, the two of them stumbling over one another in the process of relocating. After more kissing and a quick prep that left Semi’s fingers doused in lube, Semi was sitting against the headboard of the bed with Shirabu in his lap, his hips rolling as Shirabu bounced on his cock.

Semi let his head fall back and watched him. His eyes lingered on the rise and fall of Shirabu’s shoulders, and the soft way his lips parted, and the mess that Semi had made of his hair when he’d ran his hands through it.

“Fuck,” said Semi, the curse leaving his lips on a soft exhale. “You’re beautiful.”

Shirabu’s eyes opened a little more, focusing on him with a raised brow. “You’re only saying that because we’re fucking.”

“No,” said Semi. He smoothed his hands down Shirabu’s thighs, feeling the muscles tighten as they drove him up and down. “You’ve always been beautiful. Since you haven’t been such a dick lately I can finally appreciate it.”

Shirabu smiled, so slight and brief that Semi almost thought it was his imagination. “I’m always going to be a dick. I can’t turn it off.”

“That’s okay,” said Semi. He felt his way up Shirabu’s torso, gliding over his ribs, lingering at his chest. “I like you anyway.”

Shirabu went still, Semi’s cock halfway inside him. His face was blank, and Semi feared he’d said something wrong.

Then Shirabu sank down and leaned close, pushing his mouth against Semi’s, licking at his lips until their tongues twisted together. He started moving again, hips rolling fluidly, and moaned into Semi’s mouth.

Semi’s cock twitched, buried in tight heat, and he wrapped his fingers around Shirabu’s dick, stroking him, swallowing the sounds that curled from Shirabu’s throat.

They came within seconds of each other, open mouths still together, exchanging breaths and gasps and moans.

Shirabu climbed off, but Semi caught his wrist before he went too far. “Hey, wait.”

“What?”

Semi pulled him in for a gentle, lingering kiss. When Shirabu pulled back and eyed him with something resembling suspicion, Semi said, “We’re not fucking right now, and you’re still beautiful.”

Shirabu huffed and turned away, but not before Semi saw a wash of pink rise to color his cheeks.

Shirabu left the room, but returned only a moment later to throw Semi a towel. “Are you staying?” 

Semi wiped Shirabu’s come off of his chest. “Depends. Do you want me to?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes and left the bedroom. Jiro crept to the door, peered in at Semi, and then paced away again.

This time when Shirabu returned, he crawled into the sheets and pressed his back against Semi, nudging him with his foot until Semi moved closer and draped an arm over his waist.

He supposed that was Shirabu’s answer.

Semi smiled a little and pulled Shirabu closer against his chest. The quiet between them was calm, comfortable, and Semi was quickly drifting toward sleep.

He thought he could get used to this.  
  
  
  
  
Semi woke slowly, a warm body resting against his chest. He smiled to himself, reached to pull Shirabu closer, and was met with a handful of fur.

He sat up quickly, the motion displacing Jiro, who looked at him with a slight tilt of his head. 

“Uh,” said Semi. “Hi.”

Jiro’s left ear twitched, then he buried his muzzle into a pillow and flopped down again.

“I guess he likes you,” said Shirabu from the doorway. He was dressed in threadbare pajamas, a mug of coffee in hand. “He usually has a bad attitude with strangers.”

“He must get that from you.”

Shirabu didn’t smile, but it was a close thing. “I made breakfast. Do you want some?”

“You made breakfast for me?”

“No, I made breakfast for _me_ ,” corrected Shirabu. “There just happens to be enough for both of us. Do you want some or not?”

“Sure,” said Semi. “Thanks.”

“Come on then,” said Shirabu. He pointed around his coffee mug at the wardrobe in the corner. “You can borrow some clothes. I don’t want your naked ass on my kitchen chairs.”

“You didn’t have a problem with my naked ass last night.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. “Shut up and come on. Jiro, breakfast.”

Jiro raised his head, looked toward the doorway, and then settled back onto the pillow.

Semi thought he was going to get along with the dog just fine.

He pulled on a pair of Shirabu’s sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt, detouring toward the bathroom. His cell was still tucked away in the pocket of his uniform, and he dug it out of the messy pile on the floor to check his messages. 

They were all from Tendou, and ninety percent of them were the same winking emoji. He waded through the texts and finally found something of substance.

_Have fun with your “partner” tonight. Use protection. I am not buying you medicine if you catch chlamydia and I am not babysitting your kids if one of you gets pregnant._

Semi wondered why he’d ever decided to be friends with Tendou.

He ignored the messages, because he felt they didn’t deserve a response. He slipped his phone into the pocket of Shirabu’s sweatpants and padded back out to the kitchen, where Shirabu was pouring a serving of miso soup into matching bowls.

Semi leaned against the wall to watch.

He could definitely get used to this.


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t be serious,” said Semi. “That’s disgusting.”

Shirabu glanced at him, flat and unimpressed, before again focusing on the street as he slowed at a stoplight. “You’re disgusting.”

“I got dinner there _once_ ,” said Semi, “and it was awful. I think they fucked it up on purpose because I’m a cop.”

“I order there frequently and it’s always good,” said Shirabu. “Maybe they fucked it up because you’re a dick.”

“Fuck you. We’re not eating there.”

“I’m driving,” said Shirabu, “so we’re eating wherever I take us.”

Semi slumped back in his seat with a huff. It was nearly ten o’clock on a Saturday night. The time for dinner had already passed, but they’d been so busy with calls that they hadn’t yet had a chance to eat. Semi’s stomach churned unhappily and he patted the thick layer of Kevlar strapped around his torso. “Fine, whatever. I just need something before I fucking starve.”

“Humans can survive at least a week without food,” said Shirabu mildly.

“I hate you.”

“That’s not what you said last night, when I was-”

“Okay, fine, shut up,” snapped Semi, glaring out the window so Shirabu wouldn’t see the heat rising to his cheeks.

Two weeks had passed since the first night he’d spent at Shirabu’s apartment. Since then they’d participated in several more sleepovers, most of them at Shirabu’s for the benefit of privacy. 

The night before, however, they’d gone back to Semi’s place, which had been a mistake. Tendou had walked in on them while they were in a very compromising position, and Semi was still furious with him.

Semi didn’t remember the exact words he’d said to Shirabu the night before, after they'd recovered from Tendou's interruption. It was difficult to recall the details when he’d been floating in a haze of lust and satisfaction, Shirabu’s bare skin pressed against his and his hot mouth mapping out every part of Semi that it could reach.

He did know that it must have been something embarrassing, if Shirabu’s smirk was any indication.

Shirabu steered the cruiser into the parking lot of a late-night diner, one that Semi religiously avoided. He threw the car into park and raised a brow at Semi. “Are you going in or are you going to sit out here and sulk?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Shirabu smirked again. He’d been doing that more frequently, and though it wasn’t quite a smile, Semi thought it was about as close as Shirabu could get. 

There was a click from the radio, and Ushijima’s deep voice bled through the speaker. “503, 501.”

Semi and Shirabu shared a look, and Semi reached for the radio. “503, go ahead.”

“Signal six. Immediately.”

Semi felt a surge of dread. “Ten-four, 501.” He hooked the speaker back onto the rearview and fumbled for his phone. 

He dialed Ushijima, and it only rang once before he picked up. “Semi.”

“What’s wrong, Captain?” said Semi. He switched the call to speakerphone and placed it on the dash. 

“The sergeant of investigations just contacted me,” said Ushijima. In the background, Semi heard the faint hum of Tendou’s voice. He sounded excited. “One of their informants recognizes the car that you and Tendou engaged in pursuit. They know who it belongs to.”

“Oh,” said Semi. He hadn’t been expecting that. He wasn’t sure why that information had been so urgent. “Uh, that’s good.”

“They also know where the vehicle is right now,” said Ushijima. There was the distant sound of a revving engine and Tendou’s manic laugh. “Which means we know where the suspects are. I’ll text you a location. Be there as soon as you can. The other units can cover our zones while we move in.”

Semi looked at Shirabu. His face was blank, but his eyes were bright. 

“Ten-four, captain,” said Semi. “We’re on our way.”

  
  
  
  
  
Semi was probably still hungry. He didn’t notice now, because food was the last thing on his mind.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the parking lot of a haggard collection of apartment buildings. Shirabu backed the cruiser in beside Ushijima’s and cut the lights. Semi rolled down his window and was met with Tendou’s crazed grin.

“Good evening, Semi-Semi,” he said. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Semi looked past him, where Ushijima sat passively by in the passenger seat. “What’s the plan, captain?”

“The car is parked on the other side of these buildings,” said Ushijima, pointing at the windshield. “This area is known for high levels of drug activity. It is likely he is here to buy. I feel it is safe to assume that his tendency to commit robberies is to acquire money to spend on drugs.”

That was a stretch of an assumption, considering their lack of evidence for the robberies. Still, Semi didn’t consider questioning him. He couldn’t recall a single occasion in which Ushijima had been wrong about something like this.

“Okay,” he said. “What do we do?”

Ushijima passed his phone over to Tendou, who held it out the window to Semi. 

“This is a photograph of the man to whom the vehicle is registered,” said Ushijima. “It is safe to assume he may be our suspect.”

Semi studied the photo for a few seconds, memorizing the facial structure. Then he passed it over to Shirabu, who did the same. “Okay.”

“We will circle this building on foot and find somewhere to lie in wait. When he exits the building and approaches the car, we will attempt to speak with him. There is no arrest warrant, nor do we currently have the grounds to issue one. It will be a field interview only, assuming he cooperates.”

A cold, bitter part of Semi hoped the man chose not to cooperate.

“Ten-four,” said Semi. He handed the phone back, still ignoring Tendou’s leer. 

“I will take the lead,” said Ushijima. “Just keep close. Let’s go.”

They trooped across the lot and stuck to the shadows on the far side of the building. No one was outside, but sounds of loud music and laughter and shouting filtered out of the upper level windows. 

Ushijima peered around the front corner of the building. He stayed still for a moment, then started forward and waved the others along behind him.

As soon as the lot came into view, Semi immediately recognized the car. It was unmistakable. He recalled the reckless way it had sped through public streets, jeopardizing the lives of the city’s citizens, and a dull buzz of injustice burned in his gut.

Even if they couldn’t arrest him tonight, they had their guy. It was only a matter of time before he would face his crimes. 

Semi was eager for that day to come.

Ushijima instructed Semi and Shirabu to remain near the side of the building, so they could approach from behind the suspect when he emerged. He and Tendou moved closer to the car, concealing themselves behind a dark-windowed SUV. On Ushijima’s instruction they switched their radios to a different channel, so they wouldn’t interrupt the rest of the shift’s transmissions.

“We are in position,” said Ushijima, when he and Tendou had settled into place. Semi couldn’t see them from where he stood, but he knew exactly where they were. “Tell us when you have eyes on the suspect.”

“Ten-four, Captain,” said Semi. He pressed his back against the wall and discreetly peered around the corner. It was a perfect view of the front of the building. He would see anyone who exited.

Shirabu crouched in front of him, the fingertips of one hand braced against the ground for balance. He looked the same as always, but Semi felt his restlessness.

“You alright?” Semi whispered, still watching the door.

Shirabu snorted. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“I’m fine. I just have a bad feeling.”

Semi glanced at him. “What kind of bad feeling?”

Shirabu’s brows pulled together, mouth turning into a slight frown. “I don’t know.”

Semi’s stomach dropped. If he’d learned anything during his time as an officer, it was to always trust gut instincts. He looked back to the door, wondering if he should warn Ushijima, uncertain what he would even say. Ushijima wasn’t a man who put much stock in feelings. He pursued his duties based on facts and protocols. He was an excellent captain as a result, but Semi still felt there were other things that often needed to be considered. Everything wasn’t always cut and dry, black and white. In his experience, things were most often painted in shades of gray.

Maybe he should text Tendou, and at least give him a heads-up. Tendou knew better than anyone how much weight a bad feeling could carry. He was particularly skilled at picking up on subtle cues that no one else would have noticed. His instincts were impeccable. 

If Semi told him that something was off, Tendou would believe him.

He reached for his phone, but before he’d even touched it, there was motion at the front of the building.

Their suspect emerged. Semi recognized him instantly.

He wasn’t alone.

Semi grappled for his radio. “501, suspect in sight, headed your way. There are three other males with him.”

Shirabu rose from his crouch, his hand resting on the butt of his gun.

“Ten-four,” said Ushijima. “Move in behind them when they get closer. I’ll initiate contact.”

Semi wanted to say something more, perhaps an advisory to be careful.

But that would have been stupid. Ushijima was always careful.

The men crossed the parking lot, laughter passing between them, a pair of them trading a playful jab of elbows. They looked carefree, harmless.

Semi had seen firsthand that people could change at the drop of a dime when they felt threatened.

He and Shirabu slipped from behind the building, following the group, keeping a fair distance between them. 

When the men were a handful of parking spaces away from the car, Ushijima stepped from behind the SUV to face them, Tendou on his heels.

“Excuse me,” said Ushijima. “I need to speak with-”

“Cops!” “Fuck!” “Move!”

They scattered like startled rabbits, two shooting to the left, one to the right. The last one – their suspect – whipped around and almost ran straight into Shirabu. He stumbled back and spun to dart in the other direction, but Ushijima seized him by the shirt and shoved him into the bumper of a parked car.

“Tendou, get that one,” said Ushijima, nodding toward the lone man who’d ran off on his own. “I’ll get the other two. Semi, Shirabu. Deal with the suspect.”

“Ten-four, Captain,” said Semi, moving forward as Ushijima sprinted away.

The suspect’s back was against the car. He looked from side to side and then at Semi. The wildness of his eyes and the snarl of his bared teeth was like that of a cornered predator.

Semi had seen that look many times, and it was always just before things got violent.

He slipped his Taser off of his duty belt and held it in front of him, aiming at the man’s torso. Beside him, Shirabu appeared to do the same.

It was only when Semi tossed a quick glance to the side that he realized Shirabu had drawn his gun instead.

“Turn around,” said Semi, injecting the command with authority, “and put your hands on the back of your head.”

The man looked between them. His arms were slightly to his sides, as if he was about to take flight.

“Don’t even think about running,” snapped Semi. “They’re catching your friends and if you run, we’ll catch you, too. You’re already getting charged with evading. Don’t make this worse. Turn the fuck around.”

The man glanced sideways once more, weighing his options, before complying. His shoes scuffed the pavement as he turned. He held his arms behind him, wrists slightly apart. Clearly he’d been arrested before.

Semi gave Shirabu a look, but his partner’s attention was only for the suspect. Shirabu’s eyes were narrow, face drawn into a deep frown. His gun was still trained on the suspect’s back.

Semi slipped his Taser away and reached for his handcuffs instead, unclipping them from the back of his belt. He gripped them in one hand, the chain secure in his fist, and stepped forward to seize the suspect’s hands. He clicked one side of the cuffs around the man’s right wrist. As he moved to attach the second one, he was already reaching for the small key in his pocket so he could double-lock the cuffs.

Letting go too soon was a mistake.

The suspect threw himself to the side, tearing out of Semi’s grip. He pivoted on one foot and swung his right arm back, the loose cuff whistling through the air.

Semi saw it coming. He just wasn’t fast enough to move.

The steel cuff clipped his temple, pain singing in his skull as the skin split. He stumbled back and reached for his gun, but didn’t quite get to it before another blow cracked against the side of his head.

He hadn’t seen that one coming, and he didn’t see himself fall, either. 

He felt it though, his spine slamming into the pavement, breath sucked from his lungs. His head throbbed, pain ricocheting from his temple to the back of his skull and pulsing into his limbs. He thought his eyes were open, but it was hard to tell. Everything was dark.

There were voices somewhere nearby, but he couldn’t pick them out past the ringing in his ears. 

Pressure pawed at his hip, yanking and tugging, and he realized too late that someone was scrabbling for his gun. He reached for it, but his arm moved like it was dipped in molasses. By the time he touched the holster, it was already empty.

“…-own!” 

A voice filtered past the ringing in his ears, past the haze and the pain. It was familiar, and it made his pulse spike with panic.

“Put the gun down!”

Semi was on the ground, pain rushing in his veins and the taste of hot blood in his mouth. That meant Shirabu was alone.

Semi tried to roll over. He barely moved and his head throbbed loudly enough to send him sprawling back down. He gritted his teeth, and that hurt even more. 

“Put the _fucking_ gun down, asshole!” 

There was something writhing beneath Shirabu’s voice, something harsh and fierce and wild. It could have been anger, but it could have also been panic.

Semi heaved himself to the side again, and this time when his skull shrieked, he pushed past the pain and kept moving. He rolled onto his shoulder, one arm braced beneath him, and squinted at the scene in front of him.

Shirabu was right where Semi remembered, his gun extended in front of him, a snarl on his face. He didn’t look scared. He looked absolutely furious.

The suspect was a few paces away, staring Shirabu down over the barrel of Semi’s pistol. He was grinning, manic, the cuffs dangling from his right wrist.

There was a scarlet smear on the gleaming silver edge.

Semi blearily looked down at the pavement and noted the splash of blood where his head had been.

“You think I won’t shoot you?” said the suspect, his voice curved and dangerous. “I’d like to kill a cop. It would make my fucking reputation.”

Shirabu’s fingers were so tight around the grip of the gun that they shook. “I’ll tell you one more time,” he said, the command sliding through his teeth. “Put that goddamn gun down.”

The suspect kept grinning. His finger twitched, inching toward the trigger.

Semi fumbled at his duty belt, hand clumsy, pawing at his Taser.

Shirabu’s eyes darted toward him, and the suspect turned his head, following his gaze. 

The split second was the only distraction Shirabu needed.

A gunshot cracked through the parking lot, echoing off of cars, bleeding into the night. Behind them, the distant music and laughter and loud conversations from the apartment complex went silent.

Semi’s ears were still ringing, but he heard the gun clatter to the ground, dripping through the suspect’s suddenly loose grip.

The man went to his knees, clutching at his shoulder, eyes wide with shock. He pressed at the wound and stared at his bloody palm, then looked back up at Shirabu.

“You fucking _shot me_.”

Shirabu stomped closer, kicked Semi’s gun out of reach, and slammed a fist into the man’s jaw. His head snapped to the side and he fell back, skull bouncing once against the pavement. 

Shirabu stepped over him and dropped to his knees, straddling the man’s hips, snarling down at him. He holstered the gun, spat something in a low voice that Semi couldn’t hear, and hit the man again. Then he pulled his fist back, his knuckles flaming red, and hit him again. And then again. And again.

The suspect’s garbled protests faded away after the first few punches. Shirabu slammed into him, the man’s head lolling to the side, over and over.

“Shirabu,” said Semi. His voice was too quiet, wavering on the cusp of weak. He coughed, spat blood onto the pavement, and tried again. “Shirabu.”

It was louder, but still Shirabu didn’t respond.

“Shirabu, stop. Hey… _hey_. You’re going to kill him. Shirabu. Shirabu!”

Semi tried to get up, but the world spun on its axis and dumped him back on the ground. He rolled onto his hands and knees and tried to crawl toward Shirabu, but he was moving too slowly. The world dipped up and down in time with his breaths and the rough asphalt ripped into the flesh of his palms.

“Shirabu, please.”

Shirabu pulled his fist back and hit the man again. His knuckles were bloody, and dots of crimson had splashed across his cheek. The suspect wasn’t moving, and from that distance, Semi couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Shirabu…”

Shirabu pulled back for another punch, but it didn’t land. Long arms seized Shirabu and yanked him back. He thrashed, but was dragged away and tossed to the side, where he stumbled before gaining his feet.

“Calm down there, Rocky,” said Tendou, standing between Shirabu and the suspect. “I think you got him.”

“I’ll fucking kill him,” snapped Shirabu. His fists were clenched at his sides, one dipped in crimson. His lips were peeled back, teeth bared, eyes flashing with a ferocity that Semi had only seen in him once before. This time it was acute, lethal. “Get out of my way.”

“That’s a very convincing argument,” said Tendou, “but no. Excessive force is a good way to get yourself fired. Or charged.”

“Fuck excessive force,” spat Shirabu. “He deserves to die and I’ll fucking kill him.” He barged forward and tried to push past Tendou, but was shoved back. His hand twitched toward his gun, and for a second Semi was certain he’d draw it.

“Shirabu,” said Semi, the word more of a rasp than actual speech. “Calm down. It’s over.”

Shirabu’s eyes sliced toward him, lingering on the blood dripping down the side of his face. “He deserves to die,” said Shirabu, the words dipping into a growl. “Look at you." He glared at Tendou and pointed an unsteady finger in Semi’s direction. “ _Look_ at him. That piece of shit could’ve killed him! He fucking deserves to die. He fucking _deserves_ it!”

“That is enough.”

Ushijima’s voice pulsed among them like the incoming tide. He approached with two of the men in tow, both handcuffed, both walking along without protest. 

Ushijima stopped and nodded toward the suspect that Tendou had brought back, who’d watched the commotion with a flicker of fear in his wide eyes. He was kneeling a short distance away and Ushijima gestured for his detainees to join him. They went without argument, staring at their unresponsive friend as they stepped past.

“Tendou,” said Ushijima. “Have dispatch send a pair of ambulances.”

“Gotcha,” said Tendou. He gave Shirabu a look, seemed to decide he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, and stepped closer to the three apprehended suspects to speak into his radio. His voice was echoed in Semi’s earpiece, but he didn’t listen to the words.

Ushijima stared down at the prone suspect. He crouched, squeezed the man’s wrist between his fingers, and went still.

“He’s fine,” said Ushijima after a moment. 

Semi felt a measure of relief. Not for the man’s life, but for Shirabu’s future.

“Keep an eye on them, Tendou,” said Ushijima. “I’ll pull the car around.”

Tendou nodded, not offering any of his usual teasing remarks. He kept looking at Shirabu, as if waiting for him to snap.

When Ushijima was gone Shirabu moved, but it wasn’t toward the suspect. He crossed the short distance to Semi and crouched down beside him. At first he didn’t say anything. He eyed Semi’s face, studying the gash on his temple and the blood dripping down to his jaw. Then he said, “You look like shit.”

Semi would’ve rolled his eyes if his head hadn’t hurt so badly. “Thanks.”

Shirabu took Semi’s chin in his hand and gently turned it to the side, to better view his injury. “Do you think you have a concussion?”

Semi slid a glance toward him. The cars behind Shirabu were spinning. “Probably.”

Shirabu nodded. “The ambulance is on the way. Five minutes out. The first one will take you. That piece of shit over there can wait.” He brushed his fingers through Semi’s hair, tucking it away from his face, and then sat down on the pavement beside him. It was baffling that he could suddenly be so calm considering how explosive he had been only a few minutes before. “How do you feel?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“Dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Nauseous?”

“No.”

Shirabu reached for Semi’s hand and folded it between both of his own. His knuckles were busted, his own blood mixing with that of the suspect’s. Semi knew that wasn’t sanitary, but Shirabu didn’t seem to mind. “I’m sorry.”

Semi turned his head slightly to look at him. “For what?”

Shirabu bit his lip, so hard Semi thought his teeth would cut straight through it. “I should’ve shot him sooner.”

Semi snorted, and it made his head throb. “Shut up.”

“I had a feeling he was going to fight and I still stood back while you tried to cuff him. I should’ve done it myself, or at least been closer.”

“You followed protocol.”

“Protocol is fucking stupid,” said Shirabu.

“You didn’t say that when I was trying to chase these assholes through the middle of the city.”

“That’s because no one was trying to kill you then,” snapped Shirabu. “It’s not the same thing.” He squeezed Semi’s hand, and despite the black emotions that drenched the atmosphere like acid rain, the touch was gentle. “You scared the shit out of me, bleeding everywhere like that. I thought you were dead.”

“Head wounds bleed a lot.”

“I know that,” said Shirabu. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.”

“How romantic,” mumbled Tendou, still standing over their captured suspects. 

Headlights flashed over them as Ushijima steered his cruiser into the lot, angling it toward Tendou. He stepped out of the car and Semi tried to tug his hand back.

Shirabu didn’t let go.

Sirens wailed in the distance, a different pitch than those wired into the police cars. Over the screech of the encroaching ambulances, Ushijima told Tendou, “Search the three of them and put them in the back of the cruiser. Shirabu and I will take them to the jail. Another unit will escort that one to the hospital.”

“No,” said Shirabu. “I’m riding in the ambulance with Semi.”

Ushijima was unfazed by the refusal. “No, you are not,” he said. “You will accompany me to the jail, as I said. Then we will return to the station. You must take responsibility for your actions. We will discuss this when we arrive. Tendou, you will go with Semi to ensure his safety.”

Tendou had already pushed one of the suspects against the cruiser and was searching through his pockets. “Ten-four, Captain.”

“Shirabu, sit in the cruiser and wait for me,” said Ushijima. “Do not speak to the suspects.”

He didn’t move.

“ _Shirabu_.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Semi, nudging him. “Go.”

Shirabu squeezed Semi’s hand once more before standing. “I hate you,” he mumbled as he walked away.

The words didn’t match the softness of his voice.

Semi smiled despite himself. The ambulance careened around the corner and he closed his eyes against the flashing red lights. Soon he would be laid out on a gurney with a paramedic fussing over his head wound. 

He wasn’t worried about that. He’d been injured on the job before.

His primary concern was sitting in the front of Ushijima’s cruiser, with bloody knuckles and a worry-bitten lip. 

Semi knew he was going to be okay.

He just hoped Shirabu would going to come out of this unscathed, too.

  
  
  
  
  
Semi stayed in the hospital overnight, against his wishes. The doctor said they needed to keep him there for observation. 

Semi felt he could be observed at his apartment. Tendou could have stared at him there just as well as he was staring at him now.

Semi was lying back with his eyes closed, but he still felt Tendou watching him. It was unnerving, especially since Semi had intended to ignore him for at least a couple more days. It was difficult to do so when they were trapped in a hospital room together. 

“Hey, Semi-Semi?” whispered Tendou. “You asleep?”

Semi didn’t respond. Maybe if he pretended, Tendou would get bored and go away.

“Semi-Semi? Semi-Semi… Semi-Semi-Semi-Semi.”

“Fuck, _what?_ ” snapped Semi, opening his eyes into a glare.

“Oh, you are awake.”

“Of course I am. It’s impossible to sleep with you around, asshole.”

“Just making sure you’re okay,” said Tendou with a shrug. He was still in full uniform, idly flipping at one of the clips on his belt. “With the concussion and all.”

“The doctor said it was mild,” grumbled Semi. “It’s fine.”

“Well yeah, but I still wanna check on you every now and then. To make sure you’re not dead.”

“If I was dead that machine would flip its shit,” said Semi, raising his hand to indicate the heart rate monitor clipped to his finger. “Now shut up so I can sleep.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes slipped by in silence. It was peaceful, except for the heavy itch digging into the side of Semi’s face. “Why are you still looking at me?”

“I’m not.”

Semi snapped his eyes open just in time to catch Tendou turning his head away. “What’s your problem?”

“Nothing,” said Tendou. “No problem. Just making sure your stitches look okay.”

“The stitches are fucking fine and you know it.” He resisted the urge to reach up and touch them. He’d only needed two for the gash in his temple. The doctor said he’d been fortunate. If the swinging cuff had hit his eye instead, he might’ve lost half of his vision. “What’s really wrong?”

Tendou sighed and slumped a little. “I’m thinking about you and Shirabu.”

“What about us?”

“You might get in trouble,” he said. “For hooking up. Even Ushijima must have noticed the way Shirabu was fussing over you. It was obvious that something was going on. It’s against protocol, you know.”

Semi looked away from Tendou and sank back on his pillows. He’d been trying not to think about that. “Yeah, I know.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

“Maybe Ushijima will just tell us to stop and give us different partners,” said Semi. “It was just sex, just a few times. It’s not a big deal.”

Tendou’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “You sure about that, Semi-Semi?”

“What?”

“It was just sex?” repeated Tendou. “It didn’t look like ‘just sex’ when Shirabu almost beat that guy to death for hurting you.”

“That wasn’t why he-”

“It didn’t look like ‘just sex’,” said Tendou, cutting him off, “when he was touching your hair and holding your hand like the two of you were on the fucking Titanic.”

“We’re partners,” said Semi, hoping Tendou didn’t notice the warmth on his cheeks. “He was concerned.”

“You and I were partners for years,” said Tendou, “and the last time you got hurt in the field I made sure you weren’t dying and then laughed at you for twenty minutes.”

“That’s just because you’re a dick.”

“No, it’s because I’m not in love with you.”

“Shut up, Tendou.”

“Fine,” said Tendou. “I’ll drop it. But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

Semi huffed and rolled onto his side, away from Tendou. Then the pillow nudged against his stitches, there was a buzz of pain beneath the anesthetic, and he had to roll onto his back again.

“I’m going to grab something from the vending machine,” said Tendou, rising from the chair, “but I promise I’ll be quiet when I come back. You really do need to sleep. Ushijima wants to see you first thing in the morning.”

“Great,” mumbled Semi. “Thanks a lot.”

The door clicked as Tendou left, and Semi was alone.

He was grateful for Tendou’s friendship, but he was making things more difficult. Semi didn’t want to think about his relationship with Shirabu, whatever that relationship may be. Semi had suspected for a while that he was getting too attached. He should’ve known something like this was going to happen.

Tendou was wrong on one account, though. There was no way that Shirabu cared about Semi the way Semi cared about him. 

He wondered what had happened between Shirabu and Ushijima after the incident. Shirabu would get written up for his actions, at the very least. He might even get fired. Police brutality wasn’t something to gloss over. It was a big deal, even if the suspect had deserved everything that Shirabu dished out.

It had been sort of satisfying, beneath Semi’s pain and anxiety, to watch Shirabu hit the guy. Not the violence itself, but the look on Shirabu’s face; bright and wild and ferocious.

He didn’t show his feelings often, but when he did, they made him glow like a sky full of stars.

Semi closed his eyes and pushed the thoughts away. The painkillers were probably making him sappy.

A while later he heard Tendou come back into the room, but it was fuzzy and distant. He went to sleep, and didn’t wake again until the doctor came in the following morning with his discharge paperwork.

  
  
  
  
  
They stopped by the apartment on the way to the station so Semi could take a careful shower and change into clean, bloodless clothes. He knew he was meeting with Ushijima, but he still pulled on sweatpants. He thought his casual appearance would be excused considering the night he’d had.

Tendou dropped Semi off at the front door of the station and headed home to get some sleep. He’d dozed off a few times at the hospital, but it was impossible to rest properly in those uncomfortable chairs. Semi knew that from personal experience, from the handful of nights in the past that Tendou had been the one injured.

The receptionist smiled and greeted Semi as he passed by, and he gave a mumbled reply. It was weird seeing someone at that desk. Usually by the time he arrived for his late shifts, the office personnel had already gone home.

Ushijima was in his office, waiting. 

Shirabu was already there, too.

They exchanged a brief glance as Semi sat in the unoccupied chair across from Ushijima’s desk. Shirabu’s eyes flicked upward, lingered on the stitches threaded into the side of Semi’s head, and skittered away.

It was obvious that Shirabu had gone home at some point following the incident. He was dressed in different clothes as well, though they were more professional than what Semi was wearing. The dark circles beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept.

“Tendou said your injuries have been treated,” said Ushijima, eyeing Semi from across the desk. “How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” said Semi. “It wasn’t serious.”

Shirabu made a quiet, skeptical sound.

“The suspect has been charged with assault on your behalf,” said Ushijima. “He is still hospitalized, but he will be transported to the jail once he is released.”

Semi slid a glance toward Shirabu, but he was looking straight ahead.

“I will need you to type a supplemental report,” said Ushijima, “about what happened.”

“Of course.”

Ushijima sighed and looked between the two of them. “For now we must address something more personal. Shirabu informed me that the two of you have been engaging in an intimate relationship for approximately one month.”

Semi’s chest tightened. He slid a glance toward Shirabu again, but was still ignored.

“You are aware,” said Ushijima, “that this sort of behavior is a direct violation of protocol.”

Semi nodded, slowly. “Yes, sir.”

“You are also aware,” said Ushijima, “that the potential consequences for breaking this type of ethical rule could involve the loss of your job.”

A swell of dread made Semi’s stomach sink. “Yes, sir.”

“I told you it was my fault,” said Shirabu, his voice low. “I pushed him into it and convinced him not to tell anyone.”

Semi looked at him so quickly that a dull swing of dizziness tilted the room. “What?”

“All the same,” said Ushijima, “it takes two individuals to create a relationship. You are both liable. Once Shirabu’s suspension is over-”

“Suspension?” asked Semi.

Ushijima’s brow furrowed, his only reaction to the interruption. “He will be suspended without pay for two weeks for his irresponsible actions in the field. He will also undergo remedial training regarding the Use of Force Continuum.”

Semi sat back in his seat. Shirabu wasn’t getting fired, but he was afraid to feel relieved. 

“As I was saying,” continued Ushijima. “When his suspension is over, the two of you will be assigned new partners. Your relationship will end immediately.”

Semi’s gut churned. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to happen. He’d known hooking up with Shirabu was a bad idea, but he hadn’t understood exactly why. Getting caught was bad enough, but being told that everything between them was forced to an end was worse. 

“What if it doesn’t?” said Shirabu.

Ushijima raised a brow at him.

“The relationship,” Shirabu clarified. “What if it doesn’t end?”

Semi just stared at him.

“It is against protocol for two officers on the same shift to be involved in a personal relationship,” said Ushijima.

“I’ll transfer shifts,” said Shirabu. “I’ll put in the request with the Chief.”

Semi’s jaw went slack. “Shirabu, wait. You don’t have to-”

“That is your decision,” said Ushijima. “Do as you wish. No matter what happens on that front, both of you keep in mind that you could have lost your jobs for ethical misconduct. If it happens again I will not have a choice.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Semi, looking away from Shirabu and instead staring at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Shirabu mumbled something that sounded vaguely apologetic.

“Alright,” said Ushijima. “Shirabu, you are dismissed. Semi, I need that supplemental report before you leave so I can finalize the case file. After that you will be given a week off for medical leave.”

Semi wanted to argue, but knew it was pointless. Besides, he didn’t want to get even further onto Ushijima’s bad side. “Ten-four, Captain.”

Shirabu stood and left the office, ignoring Semi’s burning stare on his back.

He didn’t know why Shirabu would volunteer to transfer shifts when Ushijima was going to allow them to stay on the same one. All they had to do was stop seeing each other. Shirabu shouldn’t have minded that. It would’ve been easier for him than switching shifts for the second time in three months. 

Unless Tendou had been right, and Shirabu cared more for Semi than he was letting on.

“The report,” said Ushijima, breaking Semi out of his musings.

“Yes, sir,” said Semi, trying to piece his focus back together. “I’ll have it done in half an hour.”

  
  
  
  
  
As promised, Semi wrapped up the report with quick efficiency and submitted it to Ushijima’s email. He included as many details as he could recall, except for the part about Shirabu hitting the suspect. If he was asked about that later, he could claim that his head injury made everything fuzzy.

He stepped out of the station and into the sunlight, wincing at the sudden brightness. Since three years before when he’d been assigned to night shift, it seemed that the sun had gotten even brighter.

He’d planned to call a cab, but a familiar cruiser idled in front of the building. He stepped over and peered through the open window, where Shirabu waited. “What are you doing?”

“Driving you home,” said Shirabu. “Get in.”

Semi didn’t argue. He climbed into the car and clicked his seatbelt into place as Shirabu pulled onto the street.

“Were you waiting for me?” asked Semi.

“Obviously.”

“Why?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes and switched lanes. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Semi sat back and folded his arms, staring at the buildings blurring by out the window. After a moment he looked back at Shirabu. “Are you really going to transfer shifts?”

“Yes. I got permission from the Chief after I talked to Ushijima.”

“Why?”

“I told you not to ask stupid questions.”

“Is it really because of…” Semi trailed off. He wasn’t sure how to ask, because he was afraid he was wrong. “Because of this?” He gestured between them. “Because of us?”

Shirabu glanced at him. “Do you want to stop what we’ve been doing?”

The answer should have been yes. When they’d started, it had only been as a means of stress relief.

When he answered, though, it was an honest, “No, of course not.”

Shirabu looked back at the road. “Okay then.”

That was his way of agreeing, and Semi smiled a little despite himself.

The cruiser took a left turn at the next intersection and Semi said, “Where are we going?”

“Home,” said Shirabu.

“I live the other way.”

“My home,” said Shirabu. “Jiro wants to see you.”

Semi’s slight smile bloomed into a full grin. “Jiro does? Or you do?”

Shirabu’s face didn’t change, but there was a bit of color on his cheeks as he said, “Both.”

  
  
  
  
  
Semi spent most of the next week at Shirabu’s, either in his bed or on his couch, often piled up with Jiro. Semi was unhappy that Shirabu had been suspended, but he had to admit that spending the extra time with him was nice.

Shirabu’s shift transfer had been confirmed, and another unknown officer would be moved to their shift as Semi’s new partner. 

“Maybe my new partner will try to suck me off in the bathroom, too,” said Semi one evening, lying in Shirabu’s bed with an arm curled around his shoulders. 

“I doubt that,” said Shirabu. “You’re too much of a jerk for anyone to be interested in you.”

“Then why are you?”

“Bad judgment.”

  
  
  
  
  
On the day of Semi’s first shift since the incident, he left Shirabu’s and drove back to his own apartment.

He was greeted by the sight of Ushijima in his kitchen, rifling through the refrigerator.

Semi stopped in the doorway and stared at him, wondering if he’d stepped into the wrong apartment.

“Good afternoon,” said Ushijima, barely glancing at him. 

“Uh. Hi, Captain.”

“Do you mind if I clean out your refrigerator? Many of these items have expired.”

“Sure?”

Ushijima nodded, ducked into the fridge, and dumped an armful of the contents onto the counter.

Semi stared at him, decided he wasn’t hallucinating, and slipped into the hallway.

Tendou was lounging in his bed, tapping away at his phone with a vague smile on his face. When Semi stomped into his doorway, he looked up with a grin. “Hello there, Semi-Semi.”

Semi stepped in and kicked the door shut behind him. “Why is Ushijima in our kitchen?”

“He’s making lunch,” said Tendou. “He says I don’t eat enough.”

Semi closed his eyes, took a breath, and tried again. “Why is Ushijima in our apartment?”

“He stayed over again last night,” said Tendou, returning his attention to the phone. 

“ _Again?_ ”

Tendou’s grin curled higher. “You’ve been so caught up with Shirabu that you haven’t even noticed.”

Semi squinted at him, certain that he must be missing something. This couldn’t be what it looked like, not after he and Shirabu could have been fired for their relationship. “Are you fucking the Captain?”

Tendou laughed, high-pitched and obnoxious. “Don’t be ridiculous, Semi-Semi. Of course not.”

“Then what are you-”

“He just comes over sometimes,” shrugged Tendou. “We hang out. Cuddle a little. Sleep in the same bed. It’s nice.”

Semi was so confused that he thought his brain would implode.

“What the fuck, Tendou? A relationship with your commanding officer is a lot more serious than a relationship with another patrol cop. How can Ushijima do this after he almost fucking fired me and Shirabu?”

“The two of you were breaking protocol. We’re not.”

“What do you-”

“The policy states,” said Tendou, “that an _intimate relationship_ between fellow officers on the same shift is forbidden. As long as we don’t cross the line into intimacy it’s fine, and Wakatoshi doesn’t like sex, so we’re not doing it. No protocol is broken. Trust me, he read that policy twenty times before he agreed to stay the first night.”

All of that information was giving Semi a headache, but instead of asking for clarification, he simply said, “Wakatoshi?”

“Well yeah,” said Tendou. “You think I’m going to call him Captain when we’re cuddling? That’s awkward.”

Everything about this situation was awkward, but Semi didn’t say anything else. He simply turned on his heel and went to his own room.

He spent the next hour trying and failing to puzzle out when Tendou and Ushijima had developed some sort of attraction for each other, then finally gave up and instead attempted not to think about it at all. It was too complicated, and he had enough to worry about. Namely whoever he was going to be paired up with now that Shirabu wasn’t on their shift anymore.

He dressed in his uniform for the first time in a week, and the experience was strangely nostalgic. He’d enjoyed the time off, but he’d missed working, too. He’d been an officer since he’d finished university. It felt unnatural to go so long without reporting for duty.

He arrived at the station early and sat in his usual corner of the patrol room to wait for roll call. Ushijima had still been at his apartment when he’d left, though he’d changed into his own uniform. That could only mean that he’d stored some of his clothing in Tendou’s room, and Semi wasn’t sure how to feel about that. 

Again, he decided it was best not to think about it for now.

His phone buzzed, and he plucked it out of his pocket to check the message. It was from Shirabu.

_I just heard who’s getting transferred._

_He was on my last shift._

_You might kill him._

Semi started tapping back a response, but was interrupted before he could finish. An unfamiliar officer strolled through the door, a too-bright smile on his face as he caught sight of Semi. 

“Good evening!” he said, striding over and taking the chair beside Semi. “Are you Semi Eita?”

Semi glanced down at his name badge, which rendered this stranger’s question pointless. “Yeah.”

“Nice to meet you,” said the man, extending a hand. “I’m your new partner. Oikawa Tooru.”

Semi shook his hand, and tried to keep his face impassive.

Oikawa’s boots were polished and his badge shone, but neither of those were as bright as his slightly mischievous smile. 

One more message came in, and Semi could feel Shirabu’s smugness through the simple text.

_Good luck._


End file.
